Pen Pals
by iyimgrace
Summary: The Manor renovations are well underway and Bruce needs some advice on decorating which leads to a series of email exchanges and some more. Post-Justice League. Now with scenes in between.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This was written for the WonderBat Holiday Event 2017 at fyeahwonderbat on tumblr. I hope the formatting isn't too annoying :)_

 _When I saw Pen Pals as a prompt, all i could think about were the emails that Bruce sent her and the way she emailed back. And then thought, maybe they never got to the point of texting so they just communicate via email. This is that brain-child. Enjoy!_

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

SUBJECT: New Philosophy?

Saw you on the news. Taking the broad daylight approach, I see.

Does that mean you're not going to take me up on my offer?

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: New Philosophy?

 _What offer is that?_

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: New Philosophy?

Dressing up like a bat. I said I wouldn't sue.

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: New Philosophy?

 _Still considering giving up the cowl?_

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: New Philosophy?

Not totally. I am redecorating for our joint endeavor, after all.

BTW, the swatch samples came in. Care to have a look?

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: New Philosophy?

 _I get to lead the team and decorate? Such high praise. I'm honored._

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: New Philosophy?

I meant what I said.

Besides, figured your expertise in the classics might come in handy. Available this weekend? I could send the jet.

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: New Philosophy?

 _Saturday morning works. I have a gala at the Cezzane I have to attend on Friday evening._

 _I expect lunch when I arrive._

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: New Philosophy?

Yes, Princess.

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

SUBJECT: Thank You

 _Please give my regards to Alfred, his cooking is divine. I don't think I've had a more delicious tiramisu. I regret not being able to say goodbye before I left._

 _I think I've changed my mind on the green. The slate blue with the chevron pattern will work nicely with the warm tones of the wood paneling. I also think the Pieta Grigio gray marble for the floor will tie the two together nicely._

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Thank You

Consider it done.

P.S. Alfred says the next time you come for dinner, he plans to make a crème brulee.

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Thank You

 _I'll be back in town Friday night. What is the phrase…with bells on?_

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Thank You

Yes, that's the one. Do you need the jet?

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Thank You

 _Not this time. The Louvre purchased tickets. I'm looking at an acquisition from a dealer in Metropolis._

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Thank You

I can meet you at the airport.

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Thank You

 _I'll bring my appetite._

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

SUBJECT: Final Furniture Choice?

Which table did you decide on?

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Final Furniture Choice?

 _I like the reclaimed oak table with the walnut inlay. And the Italian leather chairs._

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Final Furniture Choice?

Drapes?

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Final Furniture Choice?

 _The navy Damask. With the pewter gray sheers._

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Final Furniture Choice?

Ordered. Installation on the 15th.

Shame you won't be here when it's done.

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Final Furniture Choice?

 _I could rearrange some things…_

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Final Furniture Choice?

Send the jet?

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Final Furniture Choice?

 _Perfect_.

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

SUBJECT: Training Facility

Any preferences on training equipment?

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Training Facility

 _You do realize that 90% of us are meta-humans, no?_

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Training Facility

Yes.

We should still spar. Training is important.

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Training Facility

 _You wish to spar with me?_

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Training Facility

I have been curious about how Amazons train.

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Training Facility

 _Hmm. We'll see._

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

SUBJECT: Concerned

 _Bruce, this is the third time I've put your shoulder back in place. I think it's time you see a doctor._

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Concerned.

It's fine.

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Concerned

 _It's not fine._

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Concerned

 _So now you're going to ignore me?_

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Concerned

No. Meetings.

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Concerned

 _You send me specs for computer equipment I know nothing about when you're in meetings. I know evasive maneuvers when I see them, Bruce._

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Concerned

I don't have time to go to a doctor for something that will heal.

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Concerned

 _Stubborn man._

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Concerned

Impossible woman.

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

SUBJECT: Kitchen

Moving on to the kitchen next. You available to look at appliances?

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Kitchen

 _You do realize I don't know how to cook, right? Perhaps Alfred should be the one to decide._

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Kitchen

In 100 years, you've never learned to cook?

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Kitchen

 _This, from a man who doesn't clean his own underwear?_

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Kitchen

Touché.

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Kitchen

 _What does Victor say? Booya?_

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Kitchen

I believe it's Boo-YA.

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Kitchen

 _Boo-YA._

 _I'll be there… if Alfred promises to make chocolate lava cake with homemade vanilla ice cream._

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Kitchen

Whatever it takes, Princess.

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

SUBJECT: Kal-El's Party

 _I just received an invitation from Kal-El and Lois. What is an engagement party?_

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Kal-El's Party

It's a party to celebrate two people who've just gotten engaged to be married. People bring gifts.

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Kal-El's Party

 _A party before the wedding party?_

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Kal-El's Party

You forgot the Bridal Shower, the Bachelor Party and the Rehearsal Dinner the night before the wedding.

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Kal-El's Party

 _That seems excessive and redundant._

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Kal-El's Party

I don't make up the rules, Princess.

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Kal-El's Party

 _Will you be attending this Engagement Party?_

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Kal-El's Party

I hadn't planned on it.

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Kal-El's Party

 _We should make an appearance. It seems the right thing to do for a friend, no?_

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Kal-El's Party

A united front? What do you buy a man after you bought the entire bank that owns his mother's house?

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Kal-El's Party

I think your presence will be gift enough after such generosity.

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Kal-El's Party

You could be my plus one…

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Kal-El's Party

 _We could be each other's plus one_.

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

SUBJECT: Furniture Invoice

Why is there an additional $5000 for an antique armoire?

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Furniture Invoice

 _Are we seriously not going to talk about it? You'll ask me why I spent $5000 on a dresser for my room (a room that you insisted I have in YOUR house) but you won't discuss the kiss we shared?_

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Furniture Invoice

What's there to discuss?

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Furniture Invoice

 _The fact that we kissed. The fact that we never said a word about it for the rest of the weekend. The fact that I enjoyed it. The fact that when I left for Paris, you were nowhere to be found. The fact that I haven't heard from you in over a week._

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Furniture Invoice

You enjoyed it?

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Furniture Invoice

 _That is all you took out of everything I said?_

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Furniture Invoice

It's the most important part.

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Furniture Invoice

 _No Bruce, the most important part is that you have not said a word to me since._

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Furniture Invoice

Why do you only use my name when you're chastising me?

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Furniture Invoice

 _I do not only use it then._

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Furniture Invoice

Yes, you do, Princess.

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Furniture Invoice

 _I could ask the same of you. You call me Princess when you want to make fun of me._

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Furniture Invoice

I would never make fun of you.

It's like a…term of endearment.

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Furniture Invoice

 _I suppose you are the only person who calls me that…_

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Furniture Invoice

See?

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Furniture Invoice

 _I can see you smirking._

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Furniture Invoice

Does it make you want to kiss me again?

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Furniture Invoice

 _Maybe. It also makes me want to hit you._

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Furniture Invoice

Could we refrain from that? The last time you hit me for 'me being me', you might have cracked a rib.

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Furniture Invoice

 _You deserved it._

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Furniture Invoice

I did. And I apologized.

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Furniture Invoice

 _Yes. You did. And I appreciate that._

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Furniture Invoice

Dinner Friday night? At a real restaurant with candles and wine.

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Furniture Invoice

 _Like a date?_

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Furniture Invoice

Yes, Princess. Like a date. Pick you up at 8pm.

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Furniture Invoice

 _At my apartment? In Paris?_

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Furniture Invoice

I know a romantic, little place on Grands-Augustine. Where do you think Alfred got his recipe for crème brulee?

* * *

FROM: Diana Prince

RE: Furniture Invoice

 _C'set génial! I look forward to it_.

* * *

FROM: Bruce Wayne

RE: Furniture Invoice

Moi aussi, Princesse.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: yeah, I did it again... added the Engagement Party Scene...

* * *

"Bruce, Diana. So glad you could make it." Lois Lane beams as she folds Diana into a tight hug. She goes for Bruce next. He's not taken off guard, but she hugs him so tight that he feels awkward when she releases. He's not a hugger, in fact doesn't like to be touched unless he's doing the touching. And most of that is with his fists, so he doesn't know what to make of the fact that her embrace is full of gratitude and appreciation. He had a direct hand in bringing the love of her life back to life.

He sniffs self-consciously when she steps back but he catches Diana's discerning glance from the corner of his eye. She sees everything, he's come to realize. Always with that keen scrutiny and a secretive smile on her lips.

"I didn't think you would come," Clark says as he shakes his hand after he's released Diana from his own, overly lengthy hug. Bruce's jaw ticks with a strange sense of irritation as he clasps the Kryptonian's hand. He doesn't bother with the typical one-up-man-ship because the grip is already tight enough to squeeze the bones in his hand and he's well aware of how he'd lose that battle. His shoulder hasn't been right since.

"I was coerced." He nails Diana with a stare to which she rolls her eyes.

"Ignore him, he's just irritable because I needed to stop and pick up your gift." She takes the white and silver wrapped box from his hand that she took exactly fifty-two minutes and thirty-four seconds to select and have gift wrapped.

"Oh this wrapping is lovely," Lois coos. "I want to open it now."

Clark takes their coats and leans closer to Bruce. "What is it? I can't see it."

"It's a lead crystal bowl."

"Really?"

Bruce shrugs.

Clark tilts his head in confusion. "Interesting."

"Clark, honey, come look," Lois holds up the bowl. Its facets catch the light in a twinkling opalescence.

Diana smiles, her light almost as brilliant. "I have heard of an Irish tradition that says if you give a crystal bowl as a wedding gift, so long as the bowl is safe and secure, the couple will be blessed with children, the health of a lion and coins in their purse."

"That is so sweet," Lois fawns. "So as long as doesn't break, our marriage will last."

"Keep it away from table tops, counters, shelves," Bruce smirks.

"Shelves?" Diana lifts an eyebrow.

"What? He can fly."

"Oh yes, he can." Lois flashes a suggestive smirk and Bruce shakes his head when Diana and Clark finally catch up with what they're suggestively hinting at. He chuckles at the gaping expression of disdain on the lovely Amazon's face. Lois laughs full out and it's nice to hear her so joyful after all they've been through. The four of them brought together out of necessity by a seriously fucked up set of circumstances. "Come on, let's get you two something to drink."

Diana walks two steps ahead of him, statuesque and impeccably dressed in a crimson wrap-dress and stiletto pumps. Her hair is twisted in an elegant up-do much like the first time he'd seen her and her tasteful gold earrings dangle with each step. She's regal and so very out of place amongst the other guests that she draws attention of both men and women alike. Bruce closes the distance and places a hand at the small of her back. He's uncertain if it's to claim his place beside her or to draw attention away from her towards him. He doesn't have time to dwell on it as she is commandeered by Clark's mother. The woman he saved, bearing the same name of his own mother. Martha.

Bruce feels a twinge of guilt having neglected to check up on her after the funeral. Had he done his due diligence, he'd have known about her bank troubles long before he had to buy up the entire brokerage that let her mortgage expire.

He observes from the sidelines as Diana is escorted around the party and introduced to a priest, some old family friends and the like. She is gracious and cordial, laughing and smiling as they regale her with stories of Clark as a teenager. Her radiance is contagious as she enchants each person she comes in contact with.

"Do my eyes deceive me or is the infamous Bruce Wayne off the market?"

Bruce flicks his attention to the intrepid reporter. "There's no story here, Lois."

"Really? That's not the vibe I'm getting from you."

He narrows his eyes in his best Bat glare. All she does is laugh at him. He rolls his eyes. What is it with the women in his life lately?

"The last time I saw a man with that dreamy eyed look," she glances over her shoulder at Clark. "I snatched him up for myself."

"I don't do dreams, I don't do relationships, and I certain don't do love."

She eyes him like she doesn't believe him and he huffs. Seriously, it's as if they've all been hanging out with Alfred too much.

"Okay, when you do," she points a finger at his chest, "I get the exclusive."

"Sure." He shakes his head and takes a sip of his champagne. He winces as he swallows and puts the glass down. He hates champagne.

Bruce loosens his tie and slips his dinner jacket off. He pours himself a scotch and offers her one. She waves her hand to decline.

He lets out a sigh as he takes a sip.

"You've been surly and disagreeable all evening." She crosses her arms and leans against the credenza. Her arched eyebrow marks her displeasure.

"I hate parties," he says.

"You go to parties all the time."

"As a ruse." He scoffs and stares into the amber liquid before he pushes the glass down to the walnut counter and gives it a shove. "You know I live a double life. I shouldn't have to explain the rationale of that to you."

"No. But you were there as a friend to Clark and Lois." With a shake of her head, her glossy hair reflects the light. "Not some fundraiser or gala."

"And I was cordial." There's a bite to his tone. She nails him with a withering stare. He shifts and turns away from her scrutiny. He doesn't know why her opinion of him matters so much. So he adds, "When I had to be."

"Is it really about the party or is there something else?"

"Like what?"

"Like your misplaced guilt over Clark's death, your desire to bring him back, your insistence that Clark deserves to live more than you?"

"Did Alfred tell you that?" The bite in his tone is even sharper now and he can't help the irritation that seeps into his voice.

"You said it yourself to me. That you would have gladly traded places." Her voice catches, and it grates on him. That same emotional quality she had when she spoke of how leading the team would make her the one responsible for leading people to their death. How all those deaths would be like Steve Trevor.

Exasperation takes hold of him and throws both of his hands out wide. "Diana, what does it matter?"

"How could you say that?" She rounds on him, passion flaring in her eyes. "It matters to me. Your life matters to me."

Something snaps in him, a thread that he's been slowly unwinding over the last few months with his penchant for having her near. Maybe it's her proximity, or the scotch, or the scent of her perfume but suddenly he's reaching for her, pulling her close. His hand snakes along the smooth sweep of her neck. Her eyes widen to deep rich chocolate pools and he lowers his lips to hers. The scent of her skin, the taste of her lips is intoxicating. Emboldened, he swipes his tongue against the seam of her mouth and she complies. And for a few glorious seconds, she responds, but its reserved, tentative, unsure. He can taste her indecision. She pulls away and steps back. Her hand touches her lips, a surprised almost uneasy expression on her lovely face. He regrets immediately taking such liberties with her trust.

"I'm sorry––" He steps back and jams his hands in his pockets to avoid the urge to trace the frown away with his fingertips. He can't stand the indecision in her eyes. His jaw clenches, pissed at himself. He'd miscalculated everything. "It's late, Alfred will see to anything you need."

He's out the door before she could stop him and he grimaces at the pleading sound of her voice as it echoes in the hall. "Bruce, wait––"

He's made a terrible, terrible mistake.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: So I couldn't just let it go and not have the scene in between. I've rearranged the chapters to fit this in between. Look at it this way, now you can go back and read it all again..._

* * *

The restaurant is a quaint out the way little place. When they arrive, the maître' d takes them upstairs to the private room and seats them at a table with soft candle light. Once alone, she rests her chin on her hand and looks around before her gaze falls on him once more.

"It's a Saturday evening and there's not a single other patron in sight."

He looks around and feigns surprise for a second, but can't hold the pretense the way she's looking at him so he fesses up. "I rented the entire place for the night."

Her musical laugh floats over him as she flips her napkin into her lap. "Would that be because you want this to be a secret or that you just want to keep me to yourself?"

The corner of Bruce's mouth lifts into a shy smile. "Is 'both' the correct answer?"

"Possibly. Depends on the reasoning."

He reaches across the table and takes her hand in his. Her fingers are long and graceful, but strong. She levels a steady gaze at him designed to elicit the truth but he holds her look a moment longer before he answers. "I'd like this to just be about us for a little while, to enjoy each other's company. Is that too much to ask?"

"Not at all. I think that's a wise choice. We wouldn't want to get Alfred's hopes up."

"Please," Bruce scoffs. "He's been picking out china patterns since he discovered you were joining me in this crazy endeavor."

"Very simple bone china with a gold band around the edge," she states matter-of-factly.

"I think we have that." Bruce plays along. "It has a little W in the center. Is that okay?"

"Well, I am Wonder Woman."

"Yes, you are." He sips at his wine, a little embarrassed at how effortlessly they slipped into a fictitious conversation about the future and a pretend marriage where she might share his last name all because of the designs of his doting butler/father figure. The embarrassment compounds with the realization that their teasing has butterflies buzzing around in his stomach at how that ideas suddenly sounds plausible to him.

The first course comes and they enjoy easy conversation with their food. They've eaten together a hundred times before, by candle light even. Alfred's doing. There is comfort in their familiarity underneath the excitement that comes with the new understanding that this is an intentional date. Complete with overt romantic ambience that elicits lingering gazes and prolonged smiles.

Somewhere between the salad and the entrée, he turns his hand palm up and she places her fingers in his. He gives her strong fingers a squeeze and when he lets go, she keeps her fingers in his hand. The pad of her middle finger delicately traces light circles over his palm. Her touch is electric and he finds himself hypnotized by her ministrations and the soothing tones of her voice.

Dinner comes and goes and he's in a trance, thoroughly bewitched by her. It's all he can do to keep up with the conversation. The great detective, master strategist, fearsome vigilante has been rendered mute by a beautiful woman. The more he thinks about it, the more he could get used to this feeling. A sense of peace and dare he say…happiness…as the object of her attention.

He trails after her as she leads him down the hall to her apartment. With each step his anticipation pulses in time with his heartbeat and he keeps his hands in his pockets to affect a casual air. What will she say? How will he respond? He's never really been nervous taking a woman to her door. There's the standard 'will they or won't they dance', which more often than not ends with his suit on her floor, a nice few hours where he can forget who he is and then the clandestine slip out that same door before the sun is up. Though in all honesty, those liaisons have been fewer and further between over the last few years. And in truth, non-existent since he met Diana a year ago.

Wow, he had it bad.

They stop at her door and she fishes the key from her shimmery bag. There's a moment of pause, her expression open and expectant. She takes a breath like she's waiting for him to speak.

"May I kiss you?" is what he says because he can't seem to stop looking at the shape of her mouth, remembering the softness of her lips when he kissed her like a stupid lovesick fool after Clark's engagement party.

Those same beautiful lips pull into an ironic smirk. And the arch of her eyebrow practically dares him to bent his lips to hers before she even speaks her next words. "You do not need to ask for my permission."

"I kinda do." He tilts his head in earnest. "I'd hate to take you off guard and have you send me through the wall."

Immediately he regrets his words. He's made her frown and that sits uncomfortably in his chest. But she runs her palm over his lapel and the heat of her flesh soothes away any reservations of his misplaced quip. "I apologize for reacting so…violently," she says. "I, too, was being childish."

A laugh catches in his throat. "I never admitted to being childish."

"Let's agree to disagree." The haughty air of her royalty punctuates her tone and he smirks.

"Why do I have the feeling that's something we'll be saying a lot?"

Her eyes glimmer as she teases, "Probably because you're a stubborn man and I'm an impossible woman?"

"With a memory like a steel trap." He finds himself caught in her gaze and once again he can't stop smiling.

She curls her fingers around his tie and tugs. "Are you going to kiss me or do I have to do everything?"

"Take it easy, Princess, this is called verbal foreplay."

"I'm done talking." With a huff, she turns out of his arms, a perturbed line on her lovely mouth. Her feistiness is a turn on, as much as her mystery and he's unwilling to let her get away now that he's so close. He snakes his arm around her waist and pulls her back flush against his body. She slams into him. Her eyes above his with the benefit of her stilettos and he has to elevate his chin. Every inch of her presses keenly against his front from his shins to his collar bones and he thinks he might finally die a happy man if the world were to end in this very moment.

Her breath puffs from her lips in surprise and ghosts over his chin like a whisper. The delicate scent of chocolate and cabernet mingle with her breath and he's intoxicated. No more hesitation, he captures her mouth in a deep, sensual kiss. Her lips part and his tongue slides into the warm space of her mouth tasting that sweetness. The spice of her essence rich and powerful explodes on his taste buds.

A yearning like he hasn't felt in ages grips strong and swift, more powerful and heady than he's ever known. He's uncertain whether it's because he's out of practice touching a woman he has burgeoning feelings for or if it's a magical illusion because she's an exquisite goddess and he's a mere mortal. Either answer holds its own set of dilemmas he's not sure he's prepared to acknowledge.

The kiss deepens further as his hands travel between her solder blades to find the sweep of lower back. A soft moan rises in her throat as her fingers rake deliciously through his hair over the back of his skull. She presses closer. Her other hand traces his jaw and down his neck, tender and sweet with hints of a sensuality barely hidden beneath the surface.

He knows she'll consume him, knows it's inevitable. He's been hopelessly obsessed since the second he laid eyes on her all those months ago, even before she tempted him with 'borrowing' his drive. Way before he found out that he had indeed never met a woman like her.

When he ends the kiss, slowly pulling back from her warmth, there's a dreaminess in her eyes that hits him square in the chest and he realizes this has always been so much more than just a flirtation, an experiment or challenge. She is special. What she makes him feel is different, new. These feelings, whatever they might be, are delicate for both of them. Something to be cherished and nurtured. Protected.

He takes her hand in his and presses his lips to the smooth backs of her knuckles. "I'm going to get back on my jet now."

"You're leaving?" Her eyes are twin pools of rich velvety desire comingled with disappointment.

His mind unwillingly conjures an email. _Thank you for bringing him back to me_. And how he ruthlessly taunted her, prodded her selfishly into action after some 100 years of pining. _I've never heard of you until Luther lured you out by stealing a picture of your dead boyfriend._ His shame stings anew. Not that he has room to judge. He doesn't. Never has.

"I think it's best."

"Are you afraid of me?" Her confident façade he's grown so accustomed to slips into insecurity and it flays his resolve.

He kisses her lips gently, chastely and softly caresses her cheek with his thumb. "No, Princess. Not like that."

She terrifies him on an entirely different level.

"Then what is it?"

He cannot explain to her what he cannot even express to himself so he says, "I think we need to take our time. Get to know each other."

This seems to resonate with her since she smiles then, that teasing, pleased little smile. She runs her fingers over the knot in his tie, smoothing it back in place. "I think I like this gentlemanly side of you."

He opens his mouth to speak but he doesn't know what to say. He's never been a gentleman but her goodness seems to bring out characteristics in him he never knew existed. So there's that. She chuckles at his discomfort and curls her fingers behind his head, pulling him in for another sweet, slow kiss.

Her smile spreads wide when she pulls away as her thumb swipes at his bottom lip to wipe off her lipstick. He already misses her taste. Stepping back, her hand trails down to the end of his fingertips. "Go. Before I throw you over my shoulder and have my way with you."

He grins like he hasn't since he was thirteen and Silver St. Cloud pushed him into the coat room at the Park Savoy. A faint blush heats his cheeks and he can't believe he's been reduced to a prepubescent boy again by her pure boldness. Her radiant smile makes his heart stutter. He takes four full steps backwards before he says, "Good night, Princess."

Her smile is almost his undoing. Almost.

"Good night, Bruce."


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Moved because of the Date Scene insert._

* * *

 **BRUCE**

: I did not want it to say "pimples". It should have been "pompous". Why does the phone do that?

:: It's called autocorrect.

: Can I make it stop?

:: You can go into your settings and turn it off

: I don't know how to do that

:: There. Done.

: Did you just crack my phone?

:: Hack, Princess, not 'crack'.

: My poor use of the vernacular is not the point.

:: I have access to all of the team phones.

: Bruce! That's an invasion of privacy.

:: I could change it back…

: No.

:: Thought so.

: Remove hrat smug look in your face.

:: That's just my face, Princess.

: No, its your "I love it when Im right face".

:: I can't help it if I'm always right.

: Somsetmes right.

:: Most times.

: I really hve to go. I have an auction in 10 mintes.

:: Can I please turn autocorrect back on? You're typing is terrible.

: I'm in a hurry. I don't have time to proofread.

:: Go. See you tonight?

: Yes. I've missed you.

:: Me too.

: How do I make the heart?

:: You don't need to make the heart, Princess. I get it.

: I want to send the heart.

:: Fine. I'll show you tonight.

 **PRINCESS**

: What does "Netflix and chill" mean?

:: Who told you that?

: Barry.

:: In what context did he say it?

: Why? We were talking about how I'm coming into town this weekend.

:: How did he say it, Princess?

:: Did he say it TO you or ABOUT you?

: Why, what does it mean?

:: Because I might have to kill him

: There's no need to get angry

:: Just answer the question

: He asked if you were going to come over to my place so we could "Netflix and chill"

:: He's dead.

: Bruce, what does it mean?

ALLEN

:: STOP TEXTING DIANA SLANG TERMS SHE DOESN'T UNDERSTAND

: Dude, why are you yelling?

:: YOU SAID 'NETFLIX AND CHILL' TO HER

: LOL, my bad

:: NOT LOL. YOU KNOW SHE DOESN'T GET THAT STUFF.

: Well, are you?

:: Am I what?

: Going to 'Netflix and chill?'

:: I'LL PUT MY FIST THROUGH YOUR THROAT THE NEXT TIME I SEE YOU

: I'll take that as a YES!

:: I'M NOT KIDDING

: You'll have to catch me first

:: I'LL COME FOR YOU WHILE YOU'RE SLEEPING

: For what it's worth…I think you should go for it.

:: YOU HAVE TO SLEEP SOME TIME BARRY

 **PRINCESS**

: Bruce, where did you go? You didn't answer my question. What does it mean?

:: Sorry. Busy plotting Barry's demise.

: If you won't answer me, I'll ask Lois.

:: It means to have sex.

: What? That makes no sense.

:: It does. That's not the point.

: Why would he ask that?

:: Because he's a nosy little shit.

: Is that what he thinks we do when we spend time together?

:: No.

:: Yes.

:: Maybe.

: I wouldn't be opposed to it.

:: Wait. What?

: Sex, Bruce. It's something I've thought about. As I am sure you have, as well.

:: This isn't a conversation we should have over text.

: No, probably not. But the door is open now. And you are 5000 miles away from me.

:: I could be on the Fox in 5 minutes.

: Or we could just talk about it now.

:: Princes…

: Too shy, or too scared.

:: Neither. When I decide to have sex with a woman, I like to look in her eyes and know where she stands first.

: You've looked in my eyes, where do you think I stand?

:: I think you're still hung up on a dead man.

: Why must it always come back to Steve Trevor?

:: Because he's a ghost that follows you like threadbare old coat.

: I should think that you are a jealous of this ghost.

:: Maybe a little. I can't compete with a Legend.

: He was just a man.

:: But the first.

: I'll always love him, but that was 100 years ago. What's you're excuse?

:: What makes you think I have an excuse?

: We've been on several dates. We've kissed. Yet you hold back.

:: I'm respecting your space.

: My noble Knight. What if don't want you to respect that space anymore?

:: Then you need to tell me that in person.

: Are you sure that it is not because you're afraid to open up to someone? To have them see who you truly are?

:: I am closer to you than I've been to anyone in a very long time.

: I believe that.

:: Then believe me when I say this isn't something to be decided over text.

: I know. And I believe the same, but now we can discuss it for real when you come to see me again. The veil has been removed.

:: All you needed to do was ask.

: You're not the most forthcoming when it pertains to your feelings.

:: I've been nothing but honest with you.

: Yes. And I cherish that.

:: Good. So I'll get on the jet now?

: You mean you're not on it already?

:: I'm already over the Atlantic.

: You make me smile.

 **BARRY**

:: Is Bruce really going to kill me?

: I'll let you know…

:: *Gulp*


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Moved because of the Date scene insert_

* * *

 **BARRY, VICTOR, ARTHUR**

: Pay up boys…the deed is happening!

:: That's impossible. I'll believe it when I see it.

::: Rock on! I told you Netflix and Chill would get his panties in a bunch.

: Yeah except now he wants to scatter pieces of my body across the planet. Thanks!

:: Still not believing it. Why would she be interested in that asshole?

::: Beats the fuck outta me.

: Come on, they're like totally into each other. All that eye fucking. It's adorable.

:: The Fox is 3646 kilometers away from Paris. Estimated time of arrival is 21:36.

::: What time is that for those of us who don't speak Cyborg?

:: 9:36PM Paris time.

::: Anyone gonna loop Big Blue in on this?

:: Probably not a wise decision.

: Lois already knows, let her break the news.

 **CURRY**

: What's this about a booty call?

:: What?

: Right on, Brother… Bowchica wow wow. The Amazon is a Babe.

:: Fuck off, Curry.

 **ALLEN**

:: WHAT PART OF "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU" DIDN'T YOU GET?

 _Read at 7:18PM_

 **BARRY, VICTOR, ARTHUR**

: Umm guys? Please make sure you come find me if I disappear off the face of the earth when he returns to Gotham.

::: If he gets his wick dipped, he's not gonna give a shit about what you said.

:: I wouldn't be too sure about that. He has a long memory and files on how to take down every single one of us.

 **ALFRED**

: I've cleared your schedule for the next three days. The Villa is being opened as we speak and will be ready for you upon your arrival.

:: Thank you, Alfred.

: Give Miss Prince my love.

:: Alfred–

: Yes, Master Wayne?

:: Don't get your hopes up. We're just talking.

: It is precisely the talking that I am most excited about. As much as you can have a conversation with anyone…

:: That'll be all, Alfred.

: Bonne chance, Master Wayne.

 **PRINCESS**

: The auction is over. I'm on my way home. I found a Cycladic marble kandila from the early bronze age for $40,000. It needs work but that's the part I love.

:: Glad to hear you had success. What exactly is a kandila?

: A pottery vase. Nothing very exciting. Very basic actually.

:: A basic pottery vase for 40k? What's special about it?

: My mother had one like it.

:: Bronze age you said?

: Yes, it amazes me how you are still disturbed by how old I am.

:: Not disturbed. Intrigued. I've never been with an older woman.

: Then I will be a first for you.

:: You're the first of many things for me.

: My cheeks hurt from smiling. How much longer until you arrive?

:: Soon. Another 45 mins. Just so you are aware, then entire team knows I'm coming to see you.

: If you hadn't threatened Barry…

:: I'm pretty sure Victor has the entire transcript of our conversation. I can't seem to find an encryption he can't break.

: Ha, well it serves you right. Besides, I do not care if they know.

:: It's none of their business.

: We haven't actually been discreet about how we feel about each other.

:: No. You just can't lie worth a damn.

: I wouldn't be worthy of the Lasso of Hestia if I could. I can't wait to see you.

:: Have your bags packed. We're going to my villa in Eze for the weekend.

: Who will need clothing?

:: Princess, I still have 45 mins alone on this plane before I get to you.

: I am giving you something to look forward to.

:: Believe me, you don't even need to try to give me something to look forward to.

: *heart*

:: You figured out how to send the heart?

: My research assistant. She's very text savvy.

:: *heart*, see you soon, Princess.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Now chapter 6 because I had to go back and add in the Engagement Party Scene... Enjoy!

* * *

Bruce swings the Fox around and lands the plane on the roof of her building. He sees her through the cockpit window, hand up to protect her eyes from the wind. The riot of anticipation in his stomach kicks up another notch. He feels a little like a teenager pulling up to his girl's house on a loud motorcycle to whisk her away before her father comes out. Only she's not just any girl, he's in a high-tech troop transport and her father is Zeus, the ruler of all gods. The irony is not lost on him.

His hand shakes as he presses the button to release the tailgate, tremors of excitement coupled with nerves. He rolls his neck to release the tension. He's part of a family again. People depend on him. Care about him. All of the teasing and the jokes, it feels strange, though not unwelcome, which is surprising. Maybe it's his age. Maybe Alfred's empty nest syndrome is contagious. He doesn't dwell.

The door parts and she's there dressed in those dark jeans that make her legs look a mile long. The smile on her face makes the four-hour impromptu flight all the more worth it. The deck touches down and she's up the ramp in two strides into his arms, solid and strong, soft and supple. His hands warm from the heat of her skin through her silk blouse. The scent of her light perfume tickles his nose and he inhales her deep into his lungs.

She drops her small travel bag and cups his face with her palms. Those lips he's had the first of many exquisite dreams about since decades past touch his own in a sensual kiss. He's missed her so much more than he realized.

She always pulls back so slowly that it makes him want to chase after her and beg for more. Her fingers brush an errant lock of hair from his forehead and she smooths her hands over his wrinkled shirt on his shoulders. Her lips, glossy and red from his kiss, form a concerned pout. "Did you fall asleep in your chair again or are you still up from the night before?"

"I was working on an adjustment to the weapons canon, if you must know." His avoidance of the answer is answer enough.

"Did you even grab a bag before you left?"

"No." He looks around uselessly. "I have clothes somewhere." Then a grin pulls at his mouth. "But then again, who says we'll need clothes?"

She giggles and pulls him in for another kiss. She bites her lips nervously when he ends the kiss. And a thought dawns on him. "I don't think I have a tooth brush."

"You can use mine."

He pulls back in mock horror. "That's gross, Princess."

A dark eyebrow arches. "You'll slide your tongue in my mouth but you can't use my tooth brush?"

"That's a whole different thing."

"You know, modern tooth brushes weren't invented until 1938." Her finger teases the stubble at the corner of his mouth. "We used chew sticks with frayed ends to rub against our teeth."

"Fascinating. I'll just find a twig from the yard."

She presses a kiss to his jaw. "I'm sure Alfred has supplied everything we could possibly need."

"I'm sure you're right." He smooths his hands over her back to her shoulders. "We should take off. I've checked the structural integrity of your building, but it is old and the weight of the plane is probably cracking someone's plaster ceiling."

"Yes, I'd hate to be a bad neighbor."

She takes his hand and they settle in for the short flight to Eze.

* * *

He finds her outside on the balcony overlooking the blue waters of the Mediterranean. She's changed into a thin strapped, loose sundress that skims her curves in all the right places. Her hair is blowing in the warm breeze. Her expression is peaceful and content. When he slips his hands around her waist, she startles slightly and runs her hands over his arms as she leans back against his chest. "It's so beautiful here. I'm reminded a little of Themyscira."

"That's what I was going for."

She chuckles. "No it wasn't, but I appreciate the sentiment."

He buries his nose in the floral scent of her hair and places a kiss the back of her head. "You ready to eat?"

"Soon." She spins in his arms to face him. "I want to enjoy you in the sunshine." The backs of her fingers caress his temple and down the side of his face. "You look relaxed. No stress. No lines of determined planning, or fixing, or worrying over things you may or may not ever be able to control."

"They're called wrinkles, Princess. I'm old."

She shakes her head. "Not compared to me you aren't. You've lived a hard life, abused your body. Taken risks that have cost much. You're exhausted."

"I've been doing this for twenty years. That's a long time for a human."

"So it's high time for a vacation, don't you agree?"

Yes, he's come to realize he agrees wholeheartedly.

* * *

She finds him after dinner on the couch in the great room. The lights are dim and he's checking the status of the diagnostic running on the propulsion system he's been working on with Victor. He can hear her enter before she even makes the dissatisfied hum over his right shoulder. She comes around to the front of the sofa to stand before him. That regal set to her lips and haughty lift of her chin make him bite back a smile. She's displeased. Probably because he's on his phone. The domesticity of it tickles a strange, if not unwelcome feeling.

Instead of reprimanding him, she hikes up the hem of her skirt to her knees and settles herself on his lap. The solidness of her body above him feels incredible. His free hand moves of its own volition to smooth up her thigh and curl around the swell of her hip. The heat of her skin through the thin cotton seeps into the pads of his fingertips. She's always so warm and lush when he touches her. An impish smile starts in the center of her lips and then slowly spreads before she reaches out for his phone.

"Hey…" It's in her grasp before he could protest further. She holds it out and away. "Di––No." It crumbles into a thousand tiny pieces. A frustrated sigh pushes through his teeth. That was a prototype version he was testing as a comm device for the entire team.

Her hips shift against his. The pleasure of that motion would have been enticing if she hadn't just crushed his phone but a groan escapes his lips nonetheless. The movement causes her pert nipples to peak through the thin gauze of her dress and okay, he's not really that upset about the phone.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"Are you going to give me my explanation?"

"About what?" He isn't about to justify why he's working for the two minutes it took her to return from the bathroom.

She rolls her eyes. "About why 'Netflix and Chill' means to have sex?"

A laugh blurts out of his throat unchecked. "Are we still on that?"

"It just doesn't make any sense to me, about why you got so upset with Barry and how that silly phrase actually caused you to end up here with me right now." Her fingers trace up the soft fabric of his t-shirt to bop the cleft in his chin. He's realized over the course of this courtship that she likes to touch, even if its playful. It's okay, he finds that he likes it a lot more than he thought. He feels grounded when she's connected to him, as if her tranquil energy is a stabilizing force to the chaos in his mind.

He brushes her hair back over her shoulder. "It's a term the kids use to spend time with a girlfriend, or boyfriend, significant other, whatever… under the pretense of watching movies at home when really what you want to do is have sex."

"But we really do watch movies…"

"I know, Princess." The smile on his face couldn't be contained. She was so beautiful. Her gaze warms the hollow coldness that has long been resident in his heart and he grows serious as his mind mulls over where this is headed. "I got angry with Barry because there are some things about you that I want to keep pure and good. And I don't want my involvement with you or the way that I feel about you to set you up for ridicule."

"Oh Bruce, that could never happen." She pressed both of her hands to the sides of his face. "They are our friends and they're invested in us because they want us to be happy."

"I am happy." A swift breath invades his chest at the admission. He drapes his hands over her arms, reveling in the sensation of her smooth skin against his. "The happiest I've been in a long time."

"Me too." She closes the distance and touches her lips to his in a gentle kiss. When he pulls her close, her lips part and she swipes her delicious tongue against his. Her touch is slow and deliberate, filled with passion and reverence. She ends the kiss with a sensual giggle deep in her throat. She nuzzles his nose with hers then stands.

Bruce immediately misses her heat. She saunters away, clearly aware that his eyes are following her every move.

"I'm going to bed," she announces over her shoulder like a royal decree. "You can either piece your gizmo back together or you can join me. Your choice."

A low growl murmurs in his chest as her dress slides off her shoulders and slips into a pool of thin cotton on the floor. Her long hair cascades down the elegant sweep of her back. She is naked and glorious and he's frozen in his spot mesmerized by her beauty.

She pauses at the threshold of the bedroom and raises her hand to the doorframe. The curve of her breast peeks out from under the silhouette of her arm. His pulse thrums in his neck. A coy smile turns up her lips in invitation before she slips into the room.

He's on his feet in the space of a heartbeat and moving to close the distance between them, stripping pieces of clothing as he goes.


	7. Chapter 7

**BARRY**

:: So, how's the weekend?

: Divine.

:: Squeee.

: I'll assume that's a squeal of excitement?

:: Yes, that is definitely a squeal of excitement. Old cranky pants needs to just chillax and enjoy himself.

: I can assure you he is. Though I would refrain from calling him 'old cranky pants'.

:: Girl, I need deets… That means details. Can you call?

: No, I cannot call. He's sleeping and if I move he'll wake.

:: I'm dying over here…

: He needs to rest more than you need to gossip.

:: Double squeee… #dead.

: I don't know what that means.

:: That means you're killing me with your cuteness.

: 3

:: So is he still contemplating killing me when he gets back?

Bruce hears the telltale muted click of a phone and he smirks to himself before he even opens his eyes. She's texting? He savors the feel of her body draped over his for a moment before he lets his lids slide open. There's an unabashed smile on her face and his heart swells just looking at her.

He still can't quite understand what he's done to deserve her. Nor can he comprehend that he's just taken a nap. He's pretty sure Alfred said he gave up on naps at the age of two, so he has no idea how this goddess of a woman managed to get him to sleep in the middle of the day for no reason at all. Scratch that, he's pretty certain it has everything to do with the vigorous round of sex they had on the couch before said nap, but still. A nap? And there wasn't even wine involved.

Unaware that he's actually awake, she stifles a giggle and bites her lip at something in her conversation. Turnabout is fair play and he plucks the phone from her hand.

"Bruce!" She presses her hand to his chest and reaches for her phone, but he holds it away. After a moment of failed stretching, she doesn't try all that hard to get it back and he can see that she's resigned to her fate since guilt for destroying his phone last night is mirrored in her eyes.

He squints to read Barry's name on the placard and frowns because he wonders what the nosy little shit is up to now. He skims the basic gist of their conversation and he's a little miffed that not only is she so free with telling the world that he's actually napping in the middle of the day. But her font is set much smaller than his and he has to hold the phone out far so he can read it.

He reads Barry's last line of, "So is he still contemplating killing me when he gets back?" and he types.

: YES.

Then drops the phone into the glass of water on the coffee table.

She gasps in horror. "There are things on there that I need."

"Your stuff is backed up to the server on my network. I'll buy you a new one." He runs his other hand over the delicious swell of her behind up to her shoulder where she has him trapped between her and the sofa.

"I suppose it's only fair." She pouts and the sexy twist of her mouth makes him stir with arousal.

"You're damn right it's only fair." He flips their positions and she lands on her back with a squeal of laughter. "You shattered my phone and I wasn't even texting another woman while I was lying naked on top of you."

Her mouth drops open at his accusation. "Barry is not another man. He's…Barry."

"Not the point, Princess."

With a perturbed hum, she runs her nose along the column of his throat to place a kiss by his ear. "You can't honestly tell me you're jealous?"

"I'm not. I just can't have you telling everyone I'm napping in the middle of the day." His eyes roll back in his head at what she's doing to him and he struggles to maintain his focus. "I have a reputation to uphold."

"Hmm," she purrs at the space over his collar bone before she nips at his skin. "I think it's a little of both." Then she soothes the bite with her tongue and he inhales swiftly, shifting his weight.

Hooking her leg over his hip, he gives her a smug smirk. "Considering I'm the one laying here on top of you, I'd say I'm the winner in that contest."

"Am I prize to be won?" Her brow furrows and she pulls back to pin him with a stare.

He freezes, suddenly unsure. He didn't mean that literally.

"No, Princess. I just…" He shakes his head trying to find the right words. "Sometimes I still can't help but wonder why you are with me."

"Do you really think so little of yourself that you devalue your worth? Even now, when it comes to me?" The dark line of her eyebrows draws together.

He frowns. "I don't deserve all of this."

She closes her eyes and shutters the sad expression that has suddenly appeared on her face. She's so open and free with her emotions and he has trouble even functioning on a good day. He's so much more comfortable with rage and darkness.

She rolls them to their sides and he thinks she's about to get up and walk away. But then she takes a breath and looks directly into his eyes. "A wise person once told me, it's not about what you deserve, it's about what you believe. And I believe in you." She flattens her palm over his chest, rubs the space over his heart. "I've seen who you are, in here. You hide behind this façade of a playboy billionaire and a masked vigilante who strikes terror in the hearts of evil men. But what you really are is a kind man who desires to make the world a better place so others don't have to feel the pain of loss as you have. That makes you a hero, Bruce, not a villain."

Of course, he disagrees with her assessment. Wouldn't it be nice if the world existed as she saw it? "You make it all sound so simple."

"It is simple. I care deeply for you. I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

Just when he thinks he can't be humbled in her presence any more than he is, she shifts the world beneath his feet with her unwavering faith and he's thrown off balance anew. His heart races from her declaration. He brushes a hair from her cheek and he examines his own tenuous relationship with the truth. "I'm falling for you Princess, and that scares the life out of me."

"I know." Her hand lovingly caresses his cheek. "I'm frightened too. The last man I loved died in a ball of fire before my eyes. I never got to experience the joy that I feel with you in this moment."

They're talking about Steve Trevor again and damn it, anger ticks at the corner of his jaw because he's the one who's here right now, holding her, naked in his arms. And the truth is––he is jealous. Fiercely. Despite his own bevy of woman who came before her. It's stupid and childish, but his ego is full of pride and he is after all just man.

She sees the frustration on his face and soothes it away with her hand and a loving smile. "I don't know how to do this anymore than you do."

He sighs, because he can't fault her for her assessing her own place in this endeavor. "You make it look easy."

"Well, what is that phrase Barry says 'fake it 'til you make it'?"

Bruce laughs despite the heavy turn of the conversation and hugs her to him, the scent of her skin and hair calming him. "Yes, I guess he has a point."

She runs her fingers up his side with a laugh. "Good. Now, you may make love to me again before we get dressed and walk into town for some food."

"Oh may I?" He arches an eyebrow at her. "I don't know if I'll be able to walk to the refrigerator let alone into town if I service you again, Princess."

Her eyes widen with a grin as she squeezes a butt cheek, pulling him even closer to her core. Her smile turns sexy and in a throaty voice, she says, "There is nothing wrong with your stamina."

"Your wish is my command."


	8. Chapter 8

**ALFRED**

:: Please have the antique armoire moved into my room.

: Oh?

:: Don't gloat.

: Very good, sir. Glass house or manor?

:: The Manor.

: Must have been some weekend…

:: Alfred––

 **KENT**

: Where do you want the armoire? On the wall near the window or by the en suite?

 **ALFRED**

:: Tell me why exactly Clark is moving the armoire.

: It was terribly heavy.

:: Hire movers.

 **KENT**

: Look, I can't wait all day. I have to meet Lois for lunch.

:: Fine. Near the en suite.

: For what it's worth, Bruce. I think it's great. But I feel obligated to tell you, if you hurt her, I'll have to deal with you.

:: You'll have to get in line.

 **LOIS LANE**

: Can I get that interview now?

:: NO COMMENT.

 **ALLEN**

: So I've come to the conclusion that you owe me a big whopping THANK YOU instead of plotting my death.

:: How's that?

: If it wasn't for me, you'd still be brooding inside your cave tinkering on your gadgets instead of lounging in the sun with an amazing, fantastic GODDESS!

:: Maybe.

: Listen Dark and Scary, I get it. We might have over stepped a little.

:: Might have?

: Okay, definitely. But it's because we care. We were worried because neither one of your cellphones worked.

:: We were fine.

: Clearly. Again, SO SORRY!

:: I don't care what you say to me, just keep her out of the vulgar dialogue and respect her privacy.

: Understood.

:: And I'm coming for you next Victor.

::: BRING IT OLD MAN!

:: You hack my security camera systems again you'll be needing another laser eye to see anything, get my drift?

::: SO POSTING THIS PIC OF YOUR NAKED ASS TO TMZ IS OUT OF THE QUESTION?

 _Image attached_

:: My naked ass has been all over the tabloids before. Check your archives. There's probably 10 different pictures. Do your homework. Amateur.

: Umm, Victor, can you get out of my thread? It freaks me out when you do that.

:: I swear if there's even a sliver of her in that pic…

::: THE ENTIRE WEEKEND HAS BEEN DELETED FROM ALL SERVERS. THERE IS NO DIGITAL TRACE OF YOUR PRESENCE THERE.

* * *

Sixteen hours ago…

CAMERA 6 SOUTH BALCONY, EZE VILLA, FRANCE 10:20PM (GMT+1) NIGHTVISION MODE

Bruce kisses Diana. He smiles and leads her off the balcony to the right.

CAMERA 7 PATIO, EZE VILLA, FRANCE 10:27PM (GMT+1) NIGHTVISION MODE

Diana's back is to the camera. She is in front of Bruce in the Jacuzzi. The light from the water glows underneath them. Her hands caress the sides of his face and she leans over to kiss him.

CAMERA 8 GREAT ROOM, EZE VILLA, FRANCE 11:53PM (GMT+1) INTERIOR

Bruce walks into the room carrying a bottle of wine. He looks up into the camera. His eyes narrow to a harsh glare. He's out of the camera shot, then his face appears close. He looms in the lens. His eyes stare with the cold glower of fury. The camera feed cuts to static.

All camera feeds cut to static.


	9. Chapter 9

"It doesn't come in red." Bruce takes a measured breath. "We can get you the leather case in red."

"I liked the red." There's a stubborn edge to her voice. He runs his thumb over the twitch in his eyebrow. He hates it when she pouts. And no, damn it, he's not going to feel guilty for drowning her phone.

"Look, we'll get it in gold, then I can swap out the bodies when we get home. Deal?"

"And that will work? Just as it had before?"

"Yes."

"All right." Her eyebrow ticks upward. He's not exactly clear on what he's agreeing to, but her stance and the brightness of her eyes tell him it's something significant. "We have a deal," she says. "But a deal is a promise, Bruce Wayne. And a promise is unbreakable."

"It's a phone."

"No matter." Her shrug belies the undercurrent of importance in her attitude.

Bruce has always been a man of action, the things he does provide meaning, display worth. But to her, words meant something, as much as action. Makes sense for the woman who wields the lasso of truth. If the spoken truth couldn't hold importance, then the intention behind those words was meaningless. So he makes a vow, even if it is over a phone. "I promise."

"Monsieur?"

"We'll take the gold, and this black one." Bruce puts his black card in the man's hand before turning to her. "At least yours is easy. I have to rebuild my entire phone from scratch because you shattered it."

"I'm sorry." Her petulant tone is gone as she steps into his embrace and toys with the collar of his shirt. "When you make the comm system for the rest of the team. Can you make mine in red?"

He chuckles and presses a kiss to her temple. "Of course, Princess."

They gather their purchases and exit into the sunshine of the late afternoon. His eyes scan the streets for paparazzi. With the house being opened, it wouldn't take much for someone to become alerted to their presence here. He's been out of the tabloid radar over the last few years but a camera lens or two would rear their ugly heads now and again. The last thing he wants is to bring attention to her in the public consciousness as the newest arm candy to billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne.

They have yet to discuss how they would handle their public personas. He mentally catalogued that as a conversation for another day. Because in truth, he didn't have an answer. She was essentially out as Wonder Woman and he needed to maintain a cover.

Her arm loops through his, drawing him from his thoughts. With a contented sigh, she presses her cheek to his shoulder as they walk down the winding Medieval stone paths of the village. They meander in and out of the small boutiques and shops, where he buys her some designer scarves and a veritable safe full of jewelry before they end up at a balcony tavern that overlooks the vista below. She speaks impeccable French to the waitress when she orders.

"How many languages do you speak?"

"All of them."

He huffs a laugh. "And here I was thinking I didn't want to boast with 40."

"As Amazons, we are defenders of all mankind. We must be able to communicate, no?"

"Is this from 5000 years of reading books, or is it part of your…powers?"

The waitress comes back to deposit their drinks and Diana thanks her with a nod. She waits until the girl is out of earshot before she continues. "I was gifted with the wisdom of Athena, but my education did require hours of study. Much to the consternation of my teachers." Her lips turn up in a sheepish grin. "I was a precocious child."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

She blows on her tea with a little smirk teasing at her lips. "I'm sure if I were to question Alfred about your childhood years I would hear much the same."

"I'm sure he would say my precociousness never ended."

She let out a wistful sigh as she takes in the vista. "This place really is a lot like Themyscira. The roughhewn stone, the archways and cobbled stone paths. I can't help but feel nostalgic."

They'd never spoken much about where she came from. He's only ever gotten bits and pieces that she reveals as she sees fit. He wanted so badly to do the research but he knows that if he digs too deep, she'll be angry, so he doesn't. The restraint it takes is a true testament to his patience. "Have ever you been back?"

"No. When I made the decision to leave, it was forever, never to return." She doesn't turn her eyes to him. Instead, her melancholy gaze is fixed over the ocean lost in memories.

"I don't understand. Why not just go back?"

"I cannot." Her pointer finger traces a zigzag over the table cloth before she meets his gaze steadily. "Themyscira is a mystical island concealed from Man's World by Zeus upon his dying breath. He hid the island to protect us from Ares, who had corrupted mankind. For thousands of years, Amazons lived in peace, preparing for the inevitable return of Ares."

"Ares as in the God of war?"

"Yes, that Ares, my brother," she says so matter-of-factly that he can't dwell on the inconceivability before she continues, "When Steve Trevor crashed through the barrier, he brought the War to End All Wars to our shores. German soldiers came to our sacred beaches and spilled Amazon blood. My aunt was killed."

And then it became tangible. "That was why you left, vengeance."

"No, not vengeance. It is our sacred duty to protect mankind from Ares and his corruption. My mother refused. But I could not stand by and do nothing. I stole my suit of armor, my shield and the Godkiller sword, all of which I thought were relics of honor among Amazons." She shakes her head with an ironic frown. "I learned later the relics had been intended for me all along. For my sword was not the Godkiller. I was."

"And?" His back presses against the chair and his eyebrows raise. He tries not to, but they move anyway. Godkiller.

"I killed my brother Ares to save mankind. It didn't work. And now I can never return to my home."

He blows out a breath between his lips absorbing all she has revealed. The more he peels back her layers, the more intrigued he becomes with her. He's not sure he wants the answer to his next question but he asks anyway. "Do you regret…leaving?"

"For a long time, I did." She lifts her eyes to his. "I closed myself off, shut myself down. I believed that men didn't deserve my compassion. I returned to fight when I was truly needed, but remained apart from the conflicts of Man's World. It wasn't until I discovered an ordinary man, with no powers, armed only with his determination and cunning, that I realized I needed to reevaluate my beliefs."

"Steve Trevor."

"No, you're not listening, Bruce." There's an exasperation to her laugh. "That man is you."

He swallows thickly. He can't be the reason she stayed.

"You train, you plan, you prepare and over-think, you design and create tools to enhance your crusade. What I saw in you wasn't just a skilled warrior, but a man with a sacred duty innate and ingrained in him, like myself. A man who believed in his cause. In hope. In all your darkness, there is still hope inside of you. It's why you sought me out to develop this team."

"No. It's a hefty dose of fear of what's to come. Steppenwolf was only the beginning." He shakes his head. "I don't have the means to stop it. You do."

"No, you have the ability to seek out means to fill in the gaps of your abilities. You smartly surround yourself with others who enhance your mission. That is what a good leader does. You can try to push me or Kal-El into the role of leader but you will always be the center point of this team. The one that keeps all the working parts moving."

He scoffs. "The chess master?"

"Of sorts, yes."

He takes in the reverence and determination in her eyes. It was true what he said to her. She makes people to see their better selves. A smile rises in agreement with the metaphor. "So long as you'll be my Queen."

"I'd like that very much." Her smile blinds him and he doesn't mind in the slightest.

He takes her hand in his. "Thank you for telling me your story."

* * *

They finish their meal and walk along the wall that over hangs the beach. The amber light of the coming sunset casts a glow over the area. He stops and folds her into his arms. She comes easily. Her lips brush his in a sweet kiss. He takes a moment to just gaze into her eyes and finds his own reflection there. He almost doesn't recognize himself. Seeing the better side of himself, hearing her praise and her belief in him is humbling and uplifting all at the same time. She makes him want to be a better man.

"I love my job," she sighs. "But I do not want this weekend to end."

"Me too."

"Alas, reality calls."

"Always does."

Her fingers toy with the buttons on his shirt. "When will I see you again?"

"Not sure. I have a full roster of meetings and events coming up. Board of Directors and such."

"Yes, my schedule is full, as well."

He runs the backs of his fingers over her cheek. "How much do you think it costs to buy the Louvre?"

Her musical laughter floats over him. "$100 billion dollars possibly, why?"

"Because then I can move you to Gotham permanently."

"As much as I would love that, I don't think Paris would let you move the Louvre." She brushes her lips on his and lingers. "Even the mighty Bruce Wayne couldn't pull that one off."

He tips his head. "Maybe not."

"However," her eyes sparkle up at him. "I would be willing to consider a more permanent solution in the near future."

His heart flips in his chest and he takes a breath. Permanency. He hasn't thought of things in a long-lasting construct in decades. But now, he finds that he looks toward the future more and more.

"I would like that very much," he says.

"If you move my armoire into your room at the manor, we could consider that a temporary solution?"

"Consider it done, Princess."

Yes, he would like that very much indeed.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: I can't tell you how happy I am to get all the love and kind words about this story. It really makes me proud to be able to provide that for all of you who are reading this. So let me just give you a huge THANK YOU!_

 _That said, I really have no idea where this story is going which is why each chapter sorta marks it as the end. But in truth, I write when I get the next scene inspiration or if something someone comments on sparks an idea. Believe me, I am loving it as much as you. So who knows where this will go. It's a mystery. So I'll leave it marked with a question marks as unfinished until it truly is The End. :)_

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

She runs, fast and furiously across the top lateral bracing of bridge. The creature gallops fast and faster. Bruce swings the Batwing toward the other side of the traverse with the intention to shoot it down as she corners it. They close the distance. Coming faster and faster, the eyes of the creature bulge in his windshield with a menacing furor. Snarling teeth drip with venom.

Bruce fires.

The roar of his gun canon sprays fire from the expulsion of a hailstorm of bullets. The creature screams and rears back. She's there, leaping onto the creatures back. She plunges the sword into its neck as he continues to fire into the creature's chest.

Bruce's pulse races in his ears then stops dead. Time slows and he can't breathe. She's hit. One of the Batcanon's bullets hit her in the shoulder. She flies back. He hears her scream in his earpiece.

"Diana!"

His own modulated voice erupts from his throat.

She falls.

And falls.

And falls.

There's nothing he can do.

Barry's not here.

Cyborg is not here.

Arthur is in Atlantis.

Superman is needed in South America.

She plunges deep into the water below.

The creature falls landing next to her.

She's gone.

Bruce gasps and sits bolt upright. Sweat pours from his face and over his chest. He drags in lungfulls of air on rapid, ragged breaths. His fists clench the sheet over his waist. When his eyes adjust to the darkened room, he takes a relieved breath and looks over his shoulder to the curves beneath the sheet beside him.

She's alive.

She's sleeping.

He runs a hand over his eyes to wipe the dream from his vision. Only it wasn't a dream. It was real. The angry red mark marring her shoulder tells him the truth. She is healing. But she almost died. And he almost killed her.

He slips out from the sheet and pulls on a pair of pants and a t-shirt before he goes out to the kitchen for a glass of water. Greedily, he swallows to moisten his dry throat. He knows from experience there's no going to sleep after, so he goes down to the cave to do some work. And forget.

An hour passes before she makes her way down the steps. He almost smiles. If he wasn't in such a state, he'd be amused by her lack of stealth. She knows he knows she's there so she runs a hand over his shoulders as she rounds his chair. He stops typing and looks up at her. She's barefoot, dressed only in one of his white dress shirts. Sexy as hell, but her face is serious and there's a concerned tilt to her eyebrows.

"Nightmare?" she asks.

"Yeah." There's no sense in denying it. She's seen them before. The first few times she tried to talk to him about it but has since learned that its better to just roll over and go back to sleep and let him process.

She straddles his thighs and settles herself over his lap. He relishes her weight on him. Her fingers curl into the hair at the back of his head and he closes his eyes. When he opens them, her clean lips, free of lipstick and gloss, smile down at him. Her eyes regard him like a loving embrace and she says, "I'm fine."

He immediately wants to push her away, because he disagrees with everything she means behind those two simple words but she traps in him the chair with the strength of her legs. Her head tilts with a frown. She unbuttons the top of his shirt she's wearing and pulls the two pieces of fabric open to reveal the wound on her chest over her right breast. It's even less red than it was an hour ago. She takes one of his hands and places it over the welt. Her skin is hot where her body works to heal the angry tear of his bullet through her flesh.

"I'm fine."

"Diana…"

"Bruce…" she returns and it's definitely a reprimand. "I am fine."

Her lips take possession of his and there's nothing left to say because she is so very alive above him. Just as much as she was when they made love hours before, after he fished her from the bank of the river and took her home. He was desperate when he touched her then. A man obsessed. Drinking in her life force like a man dying of thirst as if to prove himself that she was still there with him, alive and whole.

Bruce runs his hands over her hips and up her back to pull her closer. She smells like his sheets and his aftershave. Dressed in his shirt, he can't deny that a primal possessiveness stirs in his gut. He knows what this feeling is, knows it's been coming for a long time, but cannot give words to it. Not yet. The vulnerability of what that means terrifies him.

He can admit that. He has. Especially after her fall last night.

If he lost her…

He would be broken beyond repair. He'd already reached the brink with Jason. On top of having his parents ripped from him at such a tender age, losing Jason nearly made him destroy himself. The death of a son was terrible enough for one lifetime, he could not survive the loss of his Princess. Not now.

Her hips shift above his and he groans with desire. His hands slide down to her backside, pulling her that much closer. She has no panties on under the tail of his shirt. He almost cries out in pleasure at the feel of her smooth skin in his hands. She is truly the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

A discreet clearing of the throat stops Bruce cold. A growl tears his lips from the magical column of her throat.

"Do pardon me, Master Bruce, Miss Diana, but breakfast is served."

Diana pulls back to grace his butler with a lovely smile. Everything about Alfred amuses her and she takes the interruption in stride. Bruce not so much. He was about to live out his fantasy of having her in his Batcave chair. And while that might be a little pervy, it would be extremely hot. His hips rise with the anticipation. On second thought, he sinks back into the cushion. Probably a good thing Alfred interrupted because Bruce would never be able to sit in that chair again and not think about how glorious her strong thighs feel over his.

She rolls her lips between her teeth to keep from laughing, but her eyes dance with delight, unashamed at their intimate position. Instead, she drops a lingering kiss on his lips before sliding off of his lap. Bruce closes his eyes to take a personal moment and slow his breathing before he confronts his well-meaning butler.

He rises from the chair and lets the blood flow return to the other more appropriate parts of his body. Rounding the chairback, he sees Diana in all her glory standing like a beacon of light in the center of his dark cave. Her skin glows with a radiance that is truly her own, enhanced by the crisp white of his dress shirt she unceremoniously made claim to from his closet. Her hair falls in undulating waves around her shoulders, loose and bed tousled. And her eyes. They glow like the sun. He used to think Shakespeare was a besotted fool, full of flowery adulations but if the dark lady of his sonnets was anything like the Amazonian princess before him, then it was Bruce who was the fool.

"Thank you for this delicious breakfast, Alfred." She plucks a fresh baked scone from the tray. Bruce can smell the cinnamon and glaze as she takes a generous bite. Much like Barry, she eats heartily when she's healing. A sumptuous moan emits from her throat as she tastes the confection. "Truly amazing, as always."

Damned if Alfred didn't blush at her accolades. Bruce smirks to himself because he can't let the old man know how much it tickles him that Diana loves his pseudo father too. "Can I interest you in some coffee, Miss Diana?"

"No thank you, Alfred," she declines. "I'll just take another scone. I really must get ready. I have a few things to take care of in town this morning."

"Very well." He places one on a plate and hands it to her. All the while Bruce watches the exchange. She kisses the old man on the cheek before she pads up the steps in her bare feet to the elevator. She tosses wink over her should at Bruce before she disappears with a silent promise to resume their activities later. Bruce heart actually flutters in his chest and he shakes his head before turning to nail Alfred with a glare.

The old man shrugs with a decidedly non-apologetic smirk.

"You couldn't have checked the panel feed before you came down here?"

Alfred hands him a full cup of coffee as was their ritual. "And bear witness to things I should not be privy to?"

Bruce huffs at his sarcasm. "You rather see it live and in person?"

"Certainly not." Aflred scoffs and places the tray to the side. "I rather thought you'd hear me before I made it down the steps. Like the hundreds of other times I've entered while you are down here…working."

"I was busy."

"So I gathered."

Irritation ticked at Bruce's jaw. "Can we not?" He gestures with his hand to move them past this uncomfortable conversation.

"Of course, Master Bruce." Alfred ambles over to the workbench. "It appears Miss Diana has recovered from her plunge yesterday."

Bruce runs a hand over his face. Plunge was a mild description of it. Alfred heard then entire battle over the comms, and was equally as rattled when Bruce landed the Batwing on the lift. "She heals fast. Though if anything, the impact only knocked the wind out of her."

"Fortunate."

He rolls his neck recalling images from his dream. "She says that only weapons that can puncture can harm her."

"Swords, arrows." He pauses. "Bullets." It's not an accusation, rather a pointed observation. One that all three of them took for granted.

"I've seen her deflect a rain of machine gun fire, so I'm not sure it's actually a weakness."

"There will always be the one you don't see coming."

"Yes, that's what I'm afraid of." Bruce sits in his chair and swivels to face his butler. "I'd like to develop an armor for her."

Alfred lifts an eyebrow. "A Bat Armor?"

"It doesn't have to be…" Bruce shakes his head, taking note of the tone in Alfred's voice. He's not trying to take ownership of her. "Something like her own armor but that will cover her entire body and be puncture proof."

"Ah, a Kevlar body suit." Alfred sets his wrench down on the table. "Have you discussed this with her?"

"No."

"I see." He wipes his hands and comes to stand before him. "Buying her diner, jewelry and trips to the South of France are romantic gestures. Changing the way that she does battle smacks of possessive control."

"That's not…I don't want to control her." He stands on a sigh, by his inability to express what concerns him coupled with the fact that Alfred is closer to the truth than Bruce realizes. It's more his desire to control what happens to her. To protect her.

His pacing inadvertently takes him near the glass case of another suit and he crosses his arms, closing his eyes.

"You…care for her…most ardently." Alfred's voice is low, full of understanding. He lost a grandson, so he feels the cut just as deep. "It is understandable to be worried."

He turns to look at Alfred. "I can't lose her, Alfred."

"Master Bruce, she is a 5000 years old demi-goddess. She will outlive all of us."

"She and evidently Clark." He's not really sure where that came from. But he'd be lying if the thought hadn't crossed his mind.

"Don't go there. What they do after you and Lois are long gone is none of your concern. Jealousy is an unattractive emotion."

Bruce tosses him a snide look. "Can you at least draw up plans that I can show her, when I discuss it with her?"

"That I can do." He nods and then pauses for a beat. Bruce feels his eyes on him. Knows there's more he's not speaking.

"Say it."

"You should tell her. How you feel."

"I have…somewhat."

"All of it, Bruce. The words, the reservations, the desires. She loves you. Do not push her away because of a misplaced fear."

He looks back to the case. The last time he allowed himself to be vulnerable, to open himself up to love, he was burned badly. This is nowhere near the same circumstance, if anything it was far deeper than that, with so much more to lose.

He turns back to Alfred. "Make sure there's a belt for her lasso and a harness for her shield and sword. And thin enough to accommodate her bracelets."

"Of course, Master Wayne."


	11. Chapter 11

**6 People**

F - Dude, you shot her?!

BM - Not on purpose

WW - It was an accident. He did not mean to do it.

AM – Ahh hahaha! The Great Bat fucked something up? Say it ain't so?

F – Dude, so not funny!

SM – I'm sure there is a perfectly good explanation, isn't there Bruce?

BM – Like she said, accident.

CB – THERE IS A 0.0026248 PROBABILTY OF BEING SHOT ON ANY GIVEN DAY

F – So that's like less than a 1% chance

BM – Again. Accident.

AM - Unless you aim a .50 cal machine turret at someone

WW – What you all fail to acknowledge is that I am perfectly fine. No harm done.

F – Except for the bullet hole in you

AM – How did the turret get aimed at her exactly?

SM – Diana is right, the important thing is that she is all right.

CB – A .50 CAILBUR BULLET CAN PRODUCE BETWEEN 10,000 AND 15,000 POUNDS OF FOOT PRESSURE AND CAN PRODUCE AN EXCEPTIONALLY LARGE EXIT WOUND

BM - … … …

WW – That is enough. It was an accident. I am fine. He feels bad enough as it is. Let it be.

F – Mom has spoken.


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: One day, Bruce will listen to Alfred..._

* * *

Diana is sitting at the terminal ––in his chair––when the elevator descends into the cave. An involuntary smirk tugs at his mouth. No one is allowed to sit in his chair. And yet, that rule went right out the window as soon as she graced his bed with her presence. Before he knew it, he'd be allowing her to drive the Bat Mobile, or fly the Batwing. Did she even know how to fly a plane? She joked once about having an invisible plane and lost it, but they'd had a fair bit of wine, so he thinks she was pulling his leg. Maybe.

He takes off his coat and loosens his tie, but leaves the vest on as he rolls up his sleeves. It's been a long day of meetings and he really just wants to sift through some of the open cases he's been keeping an eye on and maybe chat a little over some dinner.

The corner of her lip is trapped between her teeth as she concentrates on the screen. He bends down and kisses her temple. She's warm and smells of soft flowers. Her hair is pulled back in her signature sleek ponytail and she's dressed in a high-necked cashmere turtleneck. She looks casual and he's glad because he really had no plans to go out this evening, not even to the sushi place he told her about the last time she was in town. Her hand comes up to caress the side of his neck but she doesn't stop in her work and he has to smile at that because he admires her focus. He's the same way.

"What're you working on?"

She hits a few keys and swivels in her chair––his chair–– and leans back in it like he does when he talks to Alfred. Her long jean-clad legs cross, and oh, those are his favorite jeans. The ones that hug her ass just right and make her legs look five miles long. He's distracted enough that she pauses with a reprimanding look before she explains. He returns it with an unabashed leer and a shrug. He enjoys looking.

She scoffs and then leans forward, forearms resting on her thighs. "Remember when I told you the story of the first age of heroes and how the races banded together to fight Steppenwolf?"

"Yeah." How could he forget?

"Well along with all of the Gods, the Amazons, the Atlanteans and the tribes of man, a Lantern fought amongst them."

Bruce crosses his arms and perches on the edge of the desk. "Dare I ask?"

"From the stories I heard as a child, Lanterns are a protective force in the universe. They wield a ring of power to fight evil and corruption."

"Universe? Like space warriors?"

"Yes, according to your files on Luthor's database when he decrypted the Kryptonian archive, there are over 100,000 different worlds. I've only scratched the surface but there are a few entries of a Green Lantern Corps that reminded me of those childhood stories."

"You think we can contact them somehow?"

"I'm not sure if we'll have to. There have been some strange sightings of a man in a green costume wielding various green objects made of light."

"What does that even mean?"

She laughs. "I do not know."

"Is that what Luthor had or just what you able to dig up on the internet?"

"Both."

"Then right now, all we have then is speculation and rumor."

She frowns in obvious frustration. "If I could just contact my mother, I could ask her. But…"

"But…" He unfolds his arms and rests his palms against the edge of the desktop framing his hips. "You know, I could do some research to find it. You said its location was near Turkey…"

"No." She rise and closes the distance between them, coming to stand between his legs. "As much as I'd like that, my mother would not allow it. Even if you could find it, you would never be able to set foot on the island."

"Why not?"

Her hands rest on his chest. "Because you're a man."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Believe me. If you'd met my mother, you would understand what I mean."

"Even if I bring her daughter back to her?"

"Even then."

Bruce's chest puffs at the challenge underneath her palms and he gives her his best Bat stare. "I'm not afraid of the Queen of the Amazons."

"You should be." She chuckles, tracing her finger around one of his buttons. He ghosts one hand up her side along the curve of her waist, past her ribs, over her shoulder to curl his fingers around the sweep of her neck. Her sleek ponytail cascades over the back of his hand. As much as he enjoys her full loose hair, he also likes it when she ties it back like this. It makes her look fierce and elegant all at the same time.

He nuzzles her cheek with his nose, teasing. When she moves forward on his invitation, he retreats eliciting a glare of challenge from her. He grins and moves in again but this time she teases and pulls back. One brow arches sharply in reply as a "two can play at that game" taunt. So instead, he wraps his arms swiftly around her for the element of surprise and plunges his tongue into her mouth in a deep, soulful kiss. She gasps but catches up quickly and returns the kiss with equal fervor. He nearly groans into her mouth as she runs her hand down the front of his trousers. God, it's been a long day and he's missed her terribly.

"Princess, we haven't even had dinner yet." He faint-heartedly attempts a protest but his mouth is on the hollow of her neck under her ear just over her sweater and he can feel her pulse thrum against his tongue. Her fingers rake into the back of his hair and she lets out a breathy sigh that he will never grow tired of hearing.

In the next breath, she stiffens unexpectedly in his arms and he pulls his face from her neck. Her arm is reaching behind him.

"What is this?"

"What?" He turns to see what had diverted her attention.

She pulls a paper from the stack of files he has on his desk. With the paper illuminated from behind, he can see a silhouette of a woman covered head to toe in black armor. He doesn't have to wait for her to turn it around to know what it is. It's the sketch with schematic pull outs for details on tensile strength and accessories Alfred showed him a few days ago. An amalgam of Amazonian armor and a Bat Costume. The design is actually a brilliant marriage of the two, but in the black and gray tones, a little more Bat perhaps than she would like.

Judging from the twisted frown on her face she doesn't like it all.

"Care to explain what this is?" She holds the paper up to his face.

Bruce takes a measured breath, a little pissed because Alfred was right. She is angry. The tone of her voice telegraphs that like a loudspeaker.

"It's just a sketch of an idea I had."

"Armor. My armor. Drawn up to look like yours."

"Not like mine…I mean, it doesn't have to be… We could keep the girdle red and gold."

"Oh, am I to be your side kick now?"

"What? No." He shakes his head and steps away from her running a hand over the pain starting to develop in the back his head. She can't possibly know how much that comment digs under his skin, because he's never told her about the Robins. The very last thing he wants ever again is a side kick. She is his partner. His equal. If anything, he was _her_ side kick.

"Then explain to me what is the meaning of this?"

Bruce turns and lets out a breath. "I just want you to be protected, head to toe from projectiles."

"Are we on this again?" She throws her hands up in the air and the paper rattles. "For the last time, Bruce, it was an accident. You did not intend to shoot me."

She's wrinkling the paper so he takes it. "But what about the next time, or the time after that, when someone else is shooting the bullets, or arrows, or knives or swords…or God knows what else?"

"Do you doubt my ability to stop them?" She cocks her hip and lifts her chin in a supreme self-assurance. "I am gifted with the speed of Hermes and the strength of Athena."

"Yes." He drops the sketch to the desk behind him. "But it's hubris to think you can stop them all."

Her eyes grow into big round saucers and her jaw tightens dangerously. She's given him that look before, right before she sent him flying into a stack of crates. His fists clench and he readies himself for the hit. But it doesn't come.

Instead, her words pummel him with a venom he's never heard from her before. "You dare to quote hubris to me? You, who wants so desperately to protect everyone around you, to wrap them up in a little protective bubble and control the outcome of every situation? And yet you plunge headlong into danger claiming that if you die, it was for the greater good of everyone. Don't you ever quote hubris to me when you exercise your death wish every chance you get."

And here they were again, at odds over their conflicting beliefs. "I am the least important member of this team and the most expendable. You are not."

"Ugh Bruce, I'm not having this debate with you again." She raises her arms and fists her hands in frustration. With each passionate word, her accent grows more pronounced. "My point is that I don't want you worry about me. Because it's not your responsibility to protect me."

He too has escalated to yelling because she's pushed almost every one of his buttons with her stubbornness. "What is so wrong with my wanting to protect you and the people that I love?"

"Do you, Bruce?" She whirls on him.

He's confused as to what she means and tilts his head giving her a cautious look. "Do I what?"

"Love me?"

The question, the doubt and the anger in her eyes, hit him in the gut and he can't breathe. Her dark eyes pierce at his tender skin over his heart and he's left floundering to find stable ground.

He barely recognizes his own voice when he finds it. "You know that I do."

"You have not said it." Her arms are crossed and she lifts her chin at him.

A pain ticks between his eyebrows in the center of his forehead. Even now, after all he's shared with her, she questions his conviction? "What the hell do you think all this is for?"

"I'd rather you just tell me. I don't need a suit of armor to tell me you love me."

Anger surfaces quick and fierce. He doesn't like to be pushed. And he doesn't like to feel vulnerable. She's asking him to strip himself bare and lay his very damaged, very fragile soul on the table and he doesn't know if he can do that. He closes his eyes frozen in his fear of weakness. Alfred warned him. Yet his own stubborn obsession continues to drive wedges between those he loves.

She shakes her head. "Well, I love you, Bruce." She states it so succinctly that he's blindsided by her admission. "I love you. But right now, I can't look at you."

The clack of her high heel boots stabs him in the heart as she stalks off to the elevator. His head spins.

She drops a bomb like that and she's fucking walking away?

"Diana, wait," he calls after her. "You can't just walk away."

She turns over her shoulder eyes dark as flint. "What I do is not up to you."


	13. Chapter 13

It's after midnight when he comes upstairs from the cave. Exhaustion and lingering frustration settled into his lower back hours ago. The tightness has worked its way up to his shoulder blades and he contemplates a tough work out to loosen the muscles. Or maybe a shower would be easier. He's tired. And pissed. And hollow.

Light spills onto the tile floor in the hallway. His natural instinct is to be suspicious and he slows his footsteps. Alfred knows he likes to keep the lights off because he prefers the dark. But the old man isn't speaking to him either because Bruce is a "pigheaded arse", he believes were the exact words, so he's pretty sure it wasn't an oversight on his opinionated butler's part.

Two light steps forward and he smells her before he sees her. Jasmine scented shampoo. His eyebrows raise and his heart flips.

That's…different. She's here.

He would have bet good money she'd be long gone by now.

He enters the room with caution because he's not sure why she's here or what she'll do when she sees him. And he's a little upset to realize he's actually afraid. Because he shouldn't be afraid of her. Even though she can kill him with little to no effort. And he trusts her, he really does. But a part of him always wonders, just like it does with Clark…All it takes is one really bad day…

As he passes the threshold, he can see her in the bathroom. She's brushing her long damp hair in front of the vanity mirror. She's getting ready for bed. A sigh of relief passes his lips. He crosses his arms and leans a shoulder against the doorjamb. "You're still here?"

She glides out of the bathroom like the goddess she is, dressed in a floor-length champagne silk nightgown that dips low against the small of her back and crisscrosses the golden expanse of skin with only a thin set of straps. She's gorgeous and elegant and his heart flutters again out of desire and disbelief. He kicks himself for the fiftieth time in the span of six hours.

"Of course," she says with a guarded tone. "My flight isn't until Monday. Why?"

"Never mind." He shakes his head and pushes off the wall. There wasn't much in the world that surprised him anymore. But this…He never would have predicted this.

She must sense his inner disbelief and practically rolls her eyes at him as she turns down the covers like he's being an idiot. "Bruce, we had a disagreement. That is all."

"I know."

"Do you?"

There's that question again. _Do you?_ He bites back the instant retort that rises in his throat. Repentant is difficult for him especially when he didn't really do anything wrong. So he says, "Diana, I've been in relationships before. I know how this works."

He's so full of shit, and they both know it. Up until five minutes ago, he was scared shitless that he'd fucked it all up because of his never-ending fear of loss. He doesn't need thousands of dollars in therapy to know that he's terrified of losing people. He knows why and he lives with that every minute of every day. It's imprinted in his DNA now and he's not sure he'll ever feel totally secure. So like a stray dog, he'll keep shitting on the carpet until he learns how not to. It may take forever. Her eternal patience may prove to be his saving grace.

She lifts the sheets and climbs into bed and the tension rolls off him even more. "Good then," she says. "Take your clothes off and get in this bed and come make it up to me."

Bruce scoffs for a second, despite how his libido jump starts his need to dive between the sheets please her. But his male ego has other plans and keeps his feet planted right where they are. He's not quite done with their argument and he stubbornly finds his hands on his hips. He tells himself 'no', but opens his mouth anyway. "So, let me get this straight. It's not up to me what you do, but you can tell me what to do whenever you want?"

"Yes. That's exactly how it is." She states it like it's a well-known fact. The twinkle in her eyes is adorable and he can't help it when he huffs an incredulous laugh.

"Princess, it doesn't work that way."

She smooths her hands over the fold in the sheet over the top of the blanket. A flicker of insecurity crosses her face and she lowers her eyes. "If you're too angry with me to make love to me, then I understand."

"Oh, I didn't say that." He catches her eye before he takes his time to remove his shirt and tosses it to the bench at the foot of the bed. His shoes, socks and trousers follow. Naked, he slides between the sheets and rests on his elbow. She watches him with a hesitant look in her eyes. He takes her hand in his and laces his fingers in hers, bringing them to his lips to place a kiss on the backs of her knuckles. "I'm not angry with you. I assumed you were angry with me."

"I am." Her face is serious for a long moment before a slow smile erases any uncertainty and she places her other hand over his. "But, I am also extremely touched by your misplaced gesture to try to protect me."

No matter how old he is, he will never understand women's capacity to harbor multiple conflicting emotions in the span of thirty seconds. Strangely, a weight lifts off of him and he can finally take a deep breath again.

"I'm sorry, Princess. I didn't mean to over step my bounds. It was just a plan I drew up with Alfred." She goes to speak but he cuts her off. "But before you get upset with him, he did question my motives in doing so. He warned me not to. As you might have guessed, I'm not one to be told 'no'. I should know better than to expect you to be told what to do, even if it's a suggestion."

"I, too, am sorry for my reaction." She shakes her head and settles against the pillows. "I must admit that I felt like you didn't have faith in my abilities and I'm uncertain as to why that upset me so much."

"Because no one likes to have their capabilities questioned especially if you take pride in them. Believe me, I know." He looks her straight in the eye. "That was not my intention. I just…I…" His voice catches at the top of his chest with a sudden tumult of emotion he can't gain purchase on and he clears his throat. Her gaze holds his patiently as she waits for him to find the words.

The curve of her cheek catches the golden glow of the light. He runs his hand over the sweep of her brow. Something in her expression unfurls the grip around his heart and he knows that he needs to say the words to her. To make the vow.

"I love you."

He says it because it's the only thing to say. And he owes her that much. He expects the apprehension to come, that taut ping in his gut, but it doesn't happen. Instead, a sense of warmth floods through every corner of his limbs. She gives him a watery smile as her eyes fill with happy tears. Relief spurs him forward. "I need you in my life. I told Alfred I can't lose you, but its more than that. Losing you would destroy me."

"I'm not going anywhere, Bruce. Not over an argument and certainly not because you want to protect me. I love you. You never have to doubt that."

"I don't doubt that." A frown ticks at the corner of his mouth. "I just don't always know how to accept the good things that happen in my life."

"Well you better believe it because we are a good thing in each other's life, Bruce Wayne, and I won't hear any argument on the matter." She kisses him so sweetly that he doesn't think he could possibly be any happier than he is in this moment.

Pride fills his chest and a triumphant smirk pulls his lips. "So Princess, get this gorgeous negligée off and get over here because I'm ready to make love to you now."

She sniffs in a breath but desire simmers under the surface of her eyes. Her lips touch his this time in a sensual, slow kiss that ends with his bottom lip between her teeth. "I think I'll leave it on, and you'll lie back while I run my tongue over every square inch of your body. How's that sound?"

"Perfect."

Maybe he does like it when she tells him what to do…


	14. Chapter 14

She's texting again? Seriously?

Muted clicks coax Bruce's eyes open to the dim gray light of a rainy morning. Rivulets of water stream down the glass walls of his bedroom. The side of his mouth lifts into a smile. The gloom of a rainy Sunday morning cannot overshadow the sunshine that radiates from the woman next to him. There's a halting quality to her texts. She types slowly because she's terrible at it on her phone but what makes him smile deeper is the curl of her lip over her bottom teeth like she's concentrating hard, while something humorous shines in her eyes.

"If you touch my phone, Bruce Wayne…" She says it without moving her focus from the screen. Nor does she have to finish her threat because he knows he'll end up with a broken hand this time. She's very attached to the red phone. He won't make that mistake again.

So, he makes the wise decision to roll on his side and just stare at her until she either stops out of annoyance or guilt. He doesn't really care which. Besides, he's content to spend long stretches of time simply looking at her.

There's a strange lightness in his heart since he told her he loves her. Like a vice grip has been removed. It's a scary step. He won't deny that. The whole vulnerability thing and all…but she makes the idea that he's exposed himself, the deepest parts of who he is, seem more palatable. He's never trusted anyone so completely, other than Alfred, but he thinks he's pretty damn close to being there with her. Or as close as he'll ever get.

He reaches out a finger to toy with one of the lace flower cutouts on her sexy negligee she put back on after the made love last night. The roughness of his skin catches on the softness, an interesting reflection of who they were to each other. She swats his hand away. Undeterred, he goes back in to trace the sweep of lace curving along her ribs. He receives a slice of a glare, but the corner of her lips tug into a smirk, so he knows she's not all that annoyed. Definitely not enough to stop her conversation. He's got to go more aggressive.

He snakes his hand underneath the down comforter to find her leg. The long skirt of her negligee is bunched over her knee. He sweeps his palm up the length of her thigh and curls his fingers around to her inner thigh. Her skin is hot and smooth. Maybe if he positions himself between her thighs she'll pay attention to him. However, her hand finds his and she pushes it away. A perturbed sigh escapes his lips.

"If you're texting Barry again, I seriously have to wonder if you'd rather spend time in bed with him…"

She rolls her eyes. "It's Lois. She and Kal-El want to go to brunch."

"Tell them there's a nice place on 105th." A sharp frown etches his lips and squelches his morning vigor. Now, he's just annoyed. "Delfino's. They should try it."

The look on her face is impatient. "They want to go with us."

"Mmm. Not interested." Brunching with the future Mr. and Mrs. Kent is not on his agenda for this morning. Or for pretty much every morning for the next thousand years.

"Come on, I think it would be lovely." Now she's giving him that hopeful, beautiful smile that if he was a nicer person, would make him want to jump through hoops with bells on to make her happy. The dark chocolate pools of her eyes actually twinkle at him. Well fuck, when her eyes sparkle like that, he'd pretty much jump through those hoops with a damn tutu on. He can't look at her.

"Like a double date? No." He flops back against the pillows and tucks his hands behind his head.

"No. Like two couples sharing conversation and a meal together." She leans over him and smooths her palm up his chest. He has to fight to keep his eyes from closing because goddammit he really likes it when she does that. The little rake of her fingernails punctures tiny holes in his resolve. He swallows.

"That's a double date, Princess."

"Whatever you want to call it." She presses a kiss to the hollow of his neck. And another to the side of his jaw. "I want to go."

Maybe if he remains silent she'll give up. He's a very patient man when he needs something. He could wait her out.

But the gentle scratching of her fingers, the warm scent of her skin. He won't look at her. He can't, because he'll cave and the Batman doesn't do brunch. Her campaign to seduce him marches forward despite his determination and she brings out her 'big guns'. She throws her leg over his. Her skin is like liquid heat and the silk of her negligee whispers over the hair on his thigh. Slowly, she entices him by dragging her toe up his shin. Her knee grazes his inner leg and his arousal stirs anew. But really, it's the teasing of her nose against the corner of his mouth and the lingering kiss she places there that does him in.

"Fine. Tell them Delfino's on a 105th. In two hours."

"An hour."

"Ninety minutes." He refuses to budge any sooner. "Because I'm going to make love to you until you scream my name. And then we're going to need showers, where I'll probably make love to you again. But, I really need two hours to do it properly."

She hums a laugh. "Well, you better work fast Batman, because I told Lois we will meet them in forty-five minutes."

He pulls back to glare at her. His first reaction is shock. But then again, he really shouldn't be surprised. This fierce, independent woman whose taken up residence in his soul is a formidable strategist when she wants to be. "You know, it's not nice to make plans for people without their consent."

"I received your consent. Just now."

" _After_ you committed to brunch." The offensive word practically claws out of his throat.

"Don't be so grumpy." She chuckles and traces his eyebrow with her finger. "It sounds like fun."

"Trust me, there is nothing fun about brunch."

She pouts at him, but it's really a mocking pout. And he has to force himself to not actually mirror the expression. "I know this is not how you wanted to spend a romantic, rainy Sunday morning. But, because you've so graciously accepted defeat…" He almost snorts a laugh as she says that outrageous stretch of the truth. She smiles too because she knows she's failing miserably to lie. "I promise to make it up to you."

"I'll hold you to that, Princess. Anytime, anywhere I want."

"A promise is unbreakable, Bruce Wayne. You should know that by now."

"I do." He smiles then and brushes her long hair off her neck. His heart swells with the deep love he feels for this woman and he kisses her. It's a searing kiss full of promise and love and desire. She leans into him with a moan. As much as he hates it, he pulls away and slips out of bed in a flash. He hears her frustrated groan as he turns on the shower. She's behind him in the blink of an eye and wrapped around him, legs and arms entwine with his against the cold tile not yet tepid by the stream of the shower. He gasps at the shock of cold but is soon warmed by her passion.

In the end, they're only twenty minutes late for brunch. Bruce considers that a win.


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N: Thanks to everyone who's still enjoying this story :) I google translated some Italian. Please forgive me if it's wrong._

* * *

Bruce shakes out the umbrella under the awning before closing it and follows Diana into Delfino's. Normally, he wouldn't bother with the cumbersome piece of equipment and just gone with his trench coat. Alfred's pointed look as he handed Bruce the biggest umbrella he could find harkened back to the days when the old man tried to instill good breeding and proper manners in him. The butler's long-suffering sigh earned him a sweet kiss to the cheek from the elegant woman his gentility rescued from the elements. Alfred blushed and Bruce grumbled under his breath. Now Bruce's hands are wet. But, Diana and her silk pants suit are perfectly dry and that's all that matters.

He shakes the moisture off his hands and skims his palm over the small of her back as they make their way to the table. She's eight feet tall in her stilettos, dressed from head to toe in pristine white, and all eyes are on them in the restaurant. A swell of pride fills his chest because he is, indeed, the luckiest man in the room. But at the same time, this is a very public place and Bruce's two worlds are colliding like a supernova before his eyes. Billionaire playboy, entrepreneur, brooding anti-social hermit and masked vigilante all on the precipice of implosion because he fell in love with a goddess he couldn't say no to. A goddess who couldn't step into any place on Earth without drawing attention. This wasn't exactly his plan to out their relationship, nevertheless here they are. He's not quite sure what the fallout will be or if there will be any. It's a concern, but he's also not sure if he cares. Maybe it's easier this way.

" _Ah buon giorno, Signore Wayne. Che sopressa!_ " A thin, older man in a black maître d's tuxedo raises his hands in greeting. " _È meraviglioso rivederti_."

" _Buon giorno, Giancarlo_." Bruce shakes the man's hand. "Good to see you again, as well."

" _Chi è questa bella donna_?" His bushy eyebrows waggle in interest. Like he said, she draws attention no matter where she goes.

He's about to present her when she extends her hand, and amused smirk on her face. "Miss Diana Prince. _È un piacere incontrarti_."

"How wonderful! Beautiful and she speaks Italian? Where are you from, darling?"

"I'm Greek."

"Ah, like the goddess Aphrodite." Giancarlo bends in supplication to kiss her hand.

"She's a little more Athena, so be careful." Bruce casually tucks a hand into his pocket with his subtle warning.

"Can I show you to your usual table Mr. Wayne?"

"We're actually meeting friends," Bruce declines and gestures to the window. "They're already seated, but thank you."

"Right this way then." Giancarlo escorts them toward Lois and Clark.

"You have a _usual_ table?" It's said through a smile, but he can hear to edge even through the sweetness.

"I've been here a few times. A long time ago." He had actually been hoping Giancarlo had retired but then again, the man did love his job. She hums in response and he wonders how he's going to pay for that little tidbit of information.

Lois and Clark stand when they arrive. Diana leans in to kiss both on the cheek. There's oohing and ahing over their outfits and a sincere apology for being twenty minutes late, though Lois doesn't seem to mind. Clark doesn't bother to hid his smirk and Bruce shrugs, completely unrepentant. So what, the boy scout would have done the same thing if the situation were reversed. Who wouldn't?

"Can I get you anything?" Giancarlo inquires after helping Diana in her seat.

"Yes, a Turkish coffee, sweet, for the lady." Diana leans slightly towards him and slides her hand over his knee in appreciation. She's pleased that he's paid attention to what Alfred makes her for breakfast every morning when she's in Gotham. He brings his hand to the back of her neck out of habit and he fights the feeling of being exposed. Clark can no doubt hear his heart beating in his chest. So, he distracts attention toward them instead. "And a bottle of Krug Clos du Mesnil 2000 for the table."

Giancarlo's eyes alight with hope. "And what are we celebrating today, Signore Wayne?"

"The future Mr. and Mrs. Kent." Bruce gestures toward their friends, dashing any preconceived notion in Giancarlo's head about an engagement announcement for him.

" _Ah, tanta felicità!_ " Giancarlo scurries off to administer his duties and they are finally left blessedly alone.

"Bruce, you didn't have to get such an expensive champagne," Lois says.

"He can afford it," Clark laughs. "He bought out the whole bank that took Ma's house."

"Clark!" Lois shakes her head. "We just wanted to spend some time with the both of you. There's no need to make a fuss."

"But why not celebrate the upcoming wedding? It's very exciting and you two deserve to be happy." Diana's genuine delight erases any concern off Lois's face.

However, it's quickly replaced with her steely eyed reporter gaze. "The maître d seemed to be hoping that we were celebrating your engagement."

Bruce snorts and Diana let's out an airy laugh. She turns her face to his and smiles into his eyes. "We're not ready for that." She holds his gaze for a long moment. Amusement and love, and genuine caring reflect back to him in the shimmer of her dark eyes. God, he loves this woman. Her ability to soothe and excite him with every breath she takes makes his heart swell with affection. And then she's gone, smiling back at their friends and Bruce is amazed at how she so adeptly turns the conversation back to Lois. "So, tell us how the wedding plans are coming?"

Lois is easily persuaded, because of course that's why they were there. "We've finally decided on a date and are going to have the ceremony and reception in Smallville. There's a small church in town and we'd like to do one of those fancy white tents and little crystal lights under the stars."

"How lovely," Diana says.

"I think it makes Ma happy to do it at the farm," Clark adds.

"It's your home." Diana states as if it's perfectly normal that an alien from another world grew up on a farm in Kansas. But then again, she's the 5000-year-old daughter of Zeus and supposedly sculpted from clay so maybe he and Lois were the abnormal ones in the group. "Do you have a large family, Lois?"

"No, just my sister now. Both of my parents are gone." She shrugs. "We were army brats."

Diana's eyebrows furrow. "Army brats?"

"Her father was an army general. It means they moved around the world a lot when they were kids," Bruce explains.

"That must have been very exciting." Lois screws up her face into a frown and Diana shifts course. "But I can see where that would become very tiresome after a while."

"Yeah, as soon as you make friends, you have to move again."

"Are you close with your sister?"

"Sometimes. She's my little sister and she's a Lane, as you can guess, she can be very opinionated. Don't you dare say anything, Clark Kent."

"I wouldn't dare." They laugh collectively as he holds up his hands in defense.

Diana's laughter trails off and she leans slightly into him again. "I would give anything to be able to see my sisters again."

Bruce's fingers find Diana's and give a little squeeze. She returns the gesture with a wan smile. He's offered to find her island but she still refuses, despite how sad the distance makes her. If he could see his mother again, he would move heaven and earth to do so. He would do it for her in a heartbeat if she asked.

The mood shifts when the champagne arrives and glasses are poured. Diana's eyes a bright and cheerful again when she asks, "Who would like to make the toast?"

Bruce freezes in her gaze, glass hoisted mid-air. Her eyebrows raise. She wants him to say it? He shakes his head. "Uh-uh."

"You ordered the champagne, Bruce."

Her eyes hold that look of challenge, and he is trapped in the dichotomy of not being able to say no to her and not being able to walk away from a challenge. How she can narrow her eyes and still have her sharp eyebrows raised is beyond him.

"All right, fine." He lifts his glass higher. "Here's to two people whom it would seem are destined to be together no matter what life, or death, brings them." He arches an eyebrow at Clark who shrugs with his aw-shucks smile. "Let's hope that this one sticks."

Diana stares at him open-mouthed. She blinks. "Bruce, that is a terrible toast."

"What?"

She calls him a stubborn ass under her breath in ancient Greek, before she takes the task over herself. "Here's to two people whose love and devotion to one another transcend the bounds of mortality. We wish you joy, laughter and love for all the days of your lives."

"Hear, hear."

Lois dabs at the corners of her eyes and sets down her glass. "Okay, she's making the toast at the wedding."

"Lo, the best man is supposed to make the toast…" Clark says.

She wags a finger. "I don't care, he's not allowed to talk at the wedding."

Bruce almost chokes on his champagne. "Wait, what?"

"It's actually why we asked you here today," Clark says. "Bruce, I'd be honored if you'd to be my best man."

Bruce's entire face contorts into a mask of confusion, his eyebrows almost hurt with how pinched they've become. "Clark, I tried to kill you."

"Bruce!" Diana's eyes flash with fire.

Bruce can't help the laugh that bubble up. "She only uses my name when she's reprimanding me."

"That is not true…" But she cuts herself off before she says his name again and he nods to let her know he caught her. "I use your name…other times…" Bruce flashes her a smirk and she actually blushes. A nugget of triumph takes root in his chest. He's made the fierce amazon blush. Because she did indeed use his name, multiple times, in the shower like he promised her.

Clark swallows and tugs at his collar. "Can you two not do that? I hear both of your heartbeats and it's a little disturbing."

"Anywho," Lois interrupts, "Diana, I'd like to ask you to be my maid of honor."

"But what about your sister?"

"Like I said, we're not very close. And you and Bruce brought Clark back to me, I think it's only right to have both of you stand up for us."

Diana takes in a sharp breath and her shoulder stills next to his. Bruce rubs his palm over her back. He can see in her eyes she's taken aback by the offer, honored to be even considered for such a responsibility. A wedding is a big deal in every culture. Bruce is a realist and he knows most people jump too quickly into the idea of marriage. He believes in marriage, the deep commitment to another person, because of his parents and their love for each other. Which is why he's never actually taken to step. There was a time…Before. But that was never meant to be. Now, the woman before him makes everything else pale in comparison.

Her eyes swim with humble tears, asking him the question. Can she, should she, accept? He smiles into her eyes and nods.

Her resulting smile beams bright with honor and gratitude. "Yes, yes we'd love to be part of your special day."

"Oh, thank God!" Lois exclaims in relief. "Because I found the most gorgeous dress…"

They're off talking about colors and fabrics, and flowers and favors.

Clark smiles and sips his coffee. "I'm happy for you Bruce."

"Why?"

"You seem happy."

Bruce shrugs. "As I _can_ be…"

"No, you are." Clark nods his head. "There's something different. Less dark and broody."

"Now you sound like Barry." There's an attempt at an eye roll but it morphs into a disgruntled smirk because he can't help it. He likes the kid for all his quirks. And maybe he is less broody…

"It's true."

"She's…" Bruce stops himself, unsure of how to talk about it out loud. He hardly analyzes it in his own head.

"I know," Clark answers for him. "She's good for you."

"Yeah."

"Maybe soon?"

"No."

Clark chuckles, then looks at his fiancé as she talks with Diana. She's animated and glowing with happiness and Clark's eyes get this dreamy glaze. "She's my world."

Bruce watches Diana. On the outside, she is exquisite, exotic perfection. Sleek and polished. But she radiates warmth and compassion when she smiles.

"How did you know?" He's not sure why he asks this, because it's like admitting he doesn't know something, but this is foreign to him. Love.

"Bruce, when you know, you know. It's as simple as that."

Bruce sips his coffee to avoid having to reply. The problem is he does know. He knew the second he laid eyes on her. He loves her, more than he could ever have thought possible. But it is still too soon. The ground is still soft, full of precarious areas they have yet to navigate. Black and hideous truths he has yet to tell her. Things he doesn't want her to know. Things he's afraid might change her perception of him.

Her hand caresses his thigh, drawing him from his dark thoughts, grounding him as if she senses his dangerously meandering thought process. She smiles beautifully at him to let him know she's there. He laces his fingers in hers. The scent of breakfast and her strong Turkish coffee further ground him in the present and the light that guides him.

Some things are better left in the dark until the light shines on them. Then sometimes those once fearsome things aren't so scary anymore. Or so the theory goes.

He is the dark.

She is his light.

She's also his world.

Clark lets out a contented sigh. "We're pretty lucky, I think."

"Yeah." On that, Bruce has to agree.


	16. Chapter 16

VICTOR

: I HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT

:: With _WHAT_ exactly?

: YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE TMZ SITE?

:: No.

: YOU SHOULD TAKE A LOOK

" _Bruce Wayne seen cozying up to Wonder Woman over brunch. Could this be true love?"_

There's a photo of them with their heads together, smiling, like he's keenly absorbed in her every word. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't.

:: Fuck. Really?

He can even see his hand curled around her ribs from over the edge of the table.

:: How did they even get this?

: KYLIE JENNER WAS SUPPOSED TO MEET SOMEONE AND NEVER SHOWED. YOU BECAME THE "I'M HERE. LET'S NOT WASTE THE DAY"

:: Great.

: LOOK AT IT THIS WAY. WHEN SNAPCHAT GOES BACK TO ITS OLD INTERFACE, ALL EYES WILL BE BACK ON KYLIE AND NOT YOU.

:: Make it happen.

: DON'T HAVE TO ASK ME TWICE. BARRY'S BEEN BITCHING ABOUT THE NEW INTERFACE FOR TWO WEEKS. FRANKLY, IT DOES SUCK.

:: Delete the article while you're at it.

: CAN'T. IT HAS 1.2K SHARES AND 40K LIKES.

:: It's fucking Monday morning!

: INTERNET BRO.

Bruce lets out a sharp hiss between his teeth. A steaming cup of coffee appears in his vision and he mutters a thanks.

"That kind morning already, Master Bruce?"

"Victor found a TMZ article about brunch."

"Ah. Then you won't want to look at Page 6 of the _Gotham Gazette._ "

"Come on, really?"

"Oh, yes."

"Why does anyone give a shit anymore?" He sits down and thumbs to the society section. "I've been out the circuit for years now."

"You are still one of the richest men in the world and Miss Diana is, after all, Wonder Woman. Of course, the paparazzi would be all over that like, what's the phrase, flies to…"

"Shit?"

"I was going to say honey, but yes that works, as well. Though a tad more vulgar."

Bruce knows he's being petulant and he recognizes the reprimand for what it is. But this is supremely frustrating. Every time he actually tries to have a life, a real life, outside of the cave and his public prison of notoriety, something always manages to get in the way.

The headline and the photo are much the same as TMZ and he tosses the paper onto the table. He pinches the space between his eyes. "She managed to stay under the radar for a century, she meets me and…"

"It was Luthor who drew her out, not you."

"I asked her to stay."

"She's a grown woman who makes her own decisions."

Bruce lifts his eyes to his butler who stares back at him with thin patience. "I just don't want her subject to undue scrutiny," he justifies.

Alfred returns with a scoff accompanied with a smirk. "I think she knew perfectly well what she signed up for."

"I asked her to fight a war, Alfred, not this." He gestures toward the drivel in on the page.

"Don't be obtuse, you know what I mean."

Bruce huffs. He knows exactly what he means.

Diana emerges from the hall at that moment dressed in a pale blue wrap dress with a thick gold chain link necklace. She looks polished and radiant. When she leans over Bruce's shoulder she runs her hands down his chest and presses her cheek to his temple in a half-kiss so as to not get her deep red lipstick on him. But she wipes at his skin with her thumb anyway just to be sure. He squeezes her hand to let her know he appreciates the kindness of her gesture. She sits and Alfred deposits her Turkish coffee in front of her.

"What's wrong?" she asks, buttering her toast.

"Who says anything is wrong?" He takes a sip of coffee feigning innocence, and apparently failing miserably.

"Your face." She nails him with a look. "And I can hear better than you think."

He slides the folded paper toward her as she bites daintily on her toast. She hums and continues to chew. There's a complete swallow before she speaks. "That's a lovely photo of us, you should have Victor track down the photographer."

Bruce's eyebrows draw together. "You don't care?"

"I love the picture. I don't particular care for the headline."

 _Billionaire Playboy Finds Wonder in the Wonder Woman_.

"It is a bit gauche, if I do say so." Alfred agrees setting down a bowl of fresh cut strawberries and a soft-boiled egg in front of her.

"It's derogatory."

"You don't like being called Wonder Woman."

She waves her hand at that then says, "They refer to you as a playboy. It's demeaning."

"Princess, you know that's a carefully cultivated cover to keep attention away from my nightly activities." He's explained that to her just yesterday to smooth over the fact that he has indeed brunched a few times in life.

"Oh yes," Alfred holds nothing back as the sarcasm drips from his words. "Judiciously promoted by gallivanting across the bedrooms of Gotham's wealthy socialites."

"Really?" Bruce shoots him a glare. "You're not helping."

"I don't care what your past is." Diana shakes her head. "Nor do I care who knows about us."

"Are you sure?" He looks into her eyes seriously. "They won't leave this alone."

"Our personal life is just that––ours. We cannot hide, nor can we give credence to reports such as these." She says this in all seriousness until a devilish smirk graces her lips. "Besides, it's not a entirely a lie. You have indeed found 'wonder' in me."

He not sure how this woman is able to reduce him to a blushing schoolboy, but she does. Repeatedly. His cheeks flame under her brilliant smile.

"And it warms my heart to no end." Alfred adds with a nearly tearful grin. "There may yet be hope for another generation of Waynes."

Bruce gives him a baleful frown and then rolls his eyes at Diana. "Don't encourage him."

She lets out an airy laugh then dabs at the corners of her mouth with her napkin before she stands. "Well, I'm off to meet Lois."

"I thought you were going back to Paris?" Bruce stands and takes her hand.

"I've decided to stay for a few more days. Lois wants to look at dresses and prepare some things for the wedding." She steps closer and fingers the buttons on his shirt before straightening his tie. "It's all right that I stay?"

"Of course, it's all right," He folds her in his arms and runs his hands over her back. She smells of spring flowers and something exotic and his insides warm just holding her.

"You can stay forever, if you like." Alfred chimes in from his current position in the kitchen.

Bruce can't help the bashful smile that turns up the corner of his lips. For as much of an old curmudgeon his butler could be, he could also be his greatest cheerleader. Frequently in his life, Alfred has been the voice to his inner most thoughts. These aren't far off the mark either.

"You can stay as long as you like," he says instead. The choice is always hers.

"Good." Her face lights up into a beautiful grin. She glows when she smiles like that.

Her cheek presses to his again in a half-kiss. She wipes of his skin once more, just in case, and she steps out of his embrace. Sometimes when she leaves it's like she steals all of the heat from his body. Sometimes she leaves a warm afterglow behind. Today, it's a little of both.

Both he and Alfred sigh audibly.

"Marry that woman."

"Can you actually marry a goddess?"

"I do not know. However, the fact that you didn't immediately say 'no' is extremely encouraging."

Bruce huffs and heads for his keys in the antique Japanese glass bowl near the door.

"Have a good day, Alfred."

"You as well, Master Wayne."


	17. Chapter 17

**PRINCESS**

: Pink or Lavender?

:: Pink.

: Yeah?

:: I like the no-shoulders

: What about pale green?

:: It's nice.

: You don't like it?

:: It doesn't matter what I like. It's Lois's wedding.

: I want you to think I look sexy in my Maid of Honor dress.

:: Princess, you would look sexy in a burlap sack.

: 3

 _40 minutes later…_

: How about this one?

:: You need a warmer green. That one's too gray.

: It doesn't come in another green. How about silver?

:: Nope. The green goes better with Lois's hair. The idea is to accent the bride.

 _36 minutes later…_

: This one?

:: Right green.

: But the cut of the dress?

:: I know I said you'd look sexy in a burlap sack, but… Hell no.

: What's wrong with this one?

:: I think I saw an old society matron in a dress like that back in 1995. Just no.

: This?

:: Seriously? Are you in a thrift store?

: I'm just kidding. Wanted to see what you would say.

:: Funny. Run out of that store.

 _Hour and a half later…_

:: No more pictures?

 _Thirty seconds later…_

:: Oh. Now that I love.

: Thought you would.

:: But the Smallville church congregation might be a little scandalized by you walking down the aisle in just a bra and garters.

: Talk about the headline.

:: Does it come in red?

: You're so fresh.

:: Thanks. I'm in a meeting and now I can't stand up.

: We can remedy that situation when you get home… (kissy lips icon)

:: Can't wait, Princess.


	18. Chapter 18

**PRINCESS**

: Bruce, you need to come home.

:: Can't. I'm still in that meeting because you distracted me…

: End it.

:: What's wrong?

: There's someone here to see you.

:: Have Alfred tell them to come back later.

: Alfred isn't here.

:: Then you tell them.

: No Bruce. You need to come home. Now.

:: Diana, who is there?

: Your son.

"Shit." Bruce's stomach drops to his feet. He doesn't hear a word of what's being said anymore. Damn it, Dick. This is exactly what he was afraid of. "I'm sorry. Thank you all for coming. This meeting is over."

"Mr. Wayne?"

He's out the door and on his way to the elevator in less than ten seconds. "Grace, cancel the rest of my meetings. And have Lucius set Mr. Nigowa up with a contract. Whatever Lucius wants, he has a green light." Bruce buttons his suit jacket and the elevator doors close in front of him. He takes out his phone and calls Dick. But he's sent to voice mail.

He rapidly pushes the button on the panel to the private garage. Though logically he knows, it does nothing to make the elevator go faster. The urgency of the situation is grating on his nerves. Panic. That sinking feeling in his gut is straight up panic over the fact that his life is spiraling out of his control before his very eyes.

He calls again. He's sent to voice mail. Again.

"Son of a bitch."

Five fucking years they don't speak to one another and he just shows up now?

He calls Diana. She sends him to voice mail. "What the fuck?"

The tracker on her League comm device says she's in the glasshouse. Which is interesting because Dick has never been there. Bruce had the glasshouse built after the fire.

After Jason.

After his family was destroyed.

When he finally makes it to his car, it takes him longer than he wants to get out of the city. The roads off the highway exit morph into wooded tree-lined streets that take him to the estate and across to the lake. He parks in the carport next to the house and manages to not run to the door. Instead, he takes his sweet fucking time. Because the drive from Gotham has stirred up his anger to levels he hasn't felt since before the Black Zero event. Since the last time he's spoken to Dick. Since Jason was Killed.

He jerks the front door open and steps inside. Ever so carefully drops his keys into the Japanese glass bowl on the console table near the door and fists his hands deep in his trouser pockets. Two sets of eyes watch his every deliberate move from their positions on the couch and side armchair in the open living room. The air is so tense it crackles around him. He fights off the need to shiver. He's the fucking Batman damn it. He's the one who strikes fears in people's hearts. And yet…he can't deny there's a shard of panic embedding its way into his chest. Things look calm, but he knows they aren't. Diana has changed into a pair of comfortable loose pants and a droopy sweater. Her hair is brushed out and spilling in waves over her shoulders. It's the tight set of her mouth that tells him he's in way deeper shit than he was with the Batwoman costume.

Dick stands. The boy he raised, and trained, and called son, has grown into a man. Though he was a man, albeit young, when they parted ways, he's filled out. Grown thicker, yet still lean and graceful like the acrobat that he was born to be. A sense of pride worms its way into Bruce's resolve, but he remembers the words they spoke to each other and he ruthlessly squashes that hope.

"Bruce."

"Dick." He steps further into the house. Diana remains on the couch silently observing. He doesn't break his steady glare at Dick. "What are you doing here?"

"That's all you have to say to me?" There it is. That youthful arrogance. That cocksure attitude. What more is there to say that they hadn't been said already? The damage was done years ago. His waltzing back in on whim matters not one iota.

Bruce removes his suit jacket and places it over the back of the empty chair across the coffee table from Dick. "I see you've met Diana."

"If you mean we said 'hello' and then sat here in utter silence for an hour, then yes, we've met."

Bruce swings a glance at Diana, who shrugs. Her shoulders and the set of her jaw are still taut. She's angry. Rightfully so. Bruce has known this day would come. It's no less disconcerting.

Dick flashes a grin. "She wouldn't let me speak until you got home. That's a formidable lady, you've got here."

"I should leave you two alone," Diana rises from the sofa.

"Stay." Bruce's tone is sharp and he doesn't mean to take out his mood on her. He softens his stance and moves closer to her. "You belong here. He, on the other hand, does not anymore. Why are you here, Dick?"

"I actually came to talk, to see how you were."

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, I can see that."

"Why now?"

"I saw your picture from brunch. It's all over social media." He rubs his jaw. "Gotta admit, I was curious."

"Keeping tabs on me?"

"Please. Like you don't have a 24/7 monitor on me? I bet you can tell me what I had for breakfast this morning." There's a smug smirk that accompanies his bitter laugh. "I learned from the best."

Bruce doesn't dignify that with a response. However, he's not above a pointed retort. "So, if you've been watching, then you don't need an explanation. You should know what this is already."

"Well, it is public knowledge now. And you don't make mistakes like that, so it must be something serious. And if that's the case, I figured I should at least warrant a visit, find out exactly who defrosted that ice-cold heart of yours."

Diana sits up on the couch, alert and ready to fight. Bruce waves her off, glad that she at least feels protective enough to engage. "The last time we spoke you said you never wanted to see me again. Why care now?"

"Because Bruce…I do. I've always cared." Dick paced in front of the coffee table. "And forgive me for feeling nostalgic, but you look happy. I had to see it with my own eyes."

"You've seen, now get out."

"Enough of this," Diana shoots to her feet and slices her hand through the air. "This is nonsense. Neither one of you are saying anything. You talk in circles with insults and thinly veiled hurt. Whatever this rift is between you two, you need to fix it."

Dick opens his mouth to speak but she nails him with a glare. "I'm not finished." She huffs an exasperated sigh. "I don't pretend to know what your issues are. I didn't even know you existed…" Her heated glare slices from Dick to Bruce and his cheeks burn with shame. Satisfied he's felt her ire, she returns her gaze to Dick. "But I know him, and his desire to control things to avoid loss, so I'm pretty sure I have an idea about why you are at odds."

"Diana…" Bruce shifts.

"Save it." The fire in her eyes churns guilt he's long overdue. "I'm more concerned that the two of you talk and mend this rift. You can explain to me later why you chose not to tell me about your son."

"Sons…" Dick adds with an ironic twist of his mouth.

Her eyes widen. "Sons."

Bruce's teeth clench.

"Well, one's dead. Does he still have that morbid shrine to Jason down in the…basement?"

Her frown pierces Bruce's heart and he feels the anger and grief over the loss of Jason boil anew. His fists ball tightly and he closes his eyes in both frustration and remorse.

The heavy silence yawns between them coiling tighter by the second.

Bruce draws a long breath through his nose. She's right. They need to talk. "Since you're here…You might as well stay." He gestures to the chair Dick was sitting in. "Can I get you a drink?"

Dick waves a hand as Bruce moves to the decanter of scotch. "No. I've sworn off the stuff for a while now. I like it a little too much."

Bruce arches an eyebrow at that interesting tidbit. Somehow in all of his spying, he hadn't known Dick had a problem with alcohol. He hasn't been paying attention enough.

"Diana?" She shakes her head to decline. Bruce however, needs a drink, or twenty.

He pours himself a good portion, takes a swallow and then pours a little more before he sits on the couch between his estranged son and his lover.

"Where's Alfred?" Dick turns his gaze around the house.

Diana curls her feet up under her and places her hand on Bruce's shoulder. "He went out to shop for groceries for dinner."

"He'll happy to see you," Bruce says.

"I've missed him." Dick looks at his hands. A moment passes before he sits back against the chair. "So, tell me how you two met?"

"At a party. She stole something from me."

"Borrowed."

Dick lifts an ironic eyebrow. "I thought you were done with thieving women?"

Bruce hissed. "It's not even close to the same thing." Was Dick going to air all of his dirty laundry? Pain in the ass.

She nails him with another pointed look. "I'll add that to the list of things you'll you explain to me."

"Sure."

"Oh to be a fly on the wall for that conversation…"

"How's Barbara?" Bruce can't help the phony grin that slides over his teeth. He knows about the on-again/off-again relationship between his two former protégés. Currently they were off-again. So, the jab felt vindictive but good. Why should he be the only one on the hot seat?

"She's…good."

"You two not together?" He feigns innocence.

"It's complicated."

"Relationships can be that way," Diana offers.

"The call you Wonder Woman?" Dick redirects the attention off of him and back to what he really wants to know. "I've seen you on the news a few times."

"That is the name I was given a hundred years ago."

"A hundred?" Dick laughs. "No wonder why you have enough patience for him."

"I'm actually 5000 years old." She smiles as if she's testing him.

Dicks barks out a loud, shocked laugh. "So a ton of patience then?"

Her smirk is answer enough.

"I've got to say," Dick regards him for a long moment. "I'm a little offended you didn't ask me to be part of your team of heroes, Bruce."

Bruce lowers his gaze to the amber liquid in his glass. "It's not––I didn't exclude you…"

Diana lifts her chin and regards Dick with that self-assured gaze. "The team is made up of meta-humans to counteract threats from otherworldly sources." He's not sure why, but he's proud that she's standing up for him. Deflecting the heat. Someone finally defending his actions.

"Metas?"

"People with special abilities," Bruce says.

"Powers," Diana says. "From godlike sources or otherwise."

"Superman. Flash. Cyborg. The Aquaman." Bruce lists the members, in no particular order.

"And the Batman?"

"I'm the money."

"He's more than that." Diana shoves his shoulder. "Though he likes to think he's expendable."

"You?" Dick's mouth gapes open. "You're talking about Bruce Wayne? The king of control and righteous vengeance?"

"Yes. Of course, I am, who else would I be talking about?"

The front door pops open all conversation ceases. Alfred enters and stops dead in his tracks. "Master Richard, what a pleasant surprise."

Bruce's heart breaks at the look on Alfred's face. For whatever terrible things Bruce and Dick said to each other, the separation was hardest on Alfred. He'd loved both boys as grandsons, and to have them ripped from his life, by Bruce's doing, was unfair.

"Alfred, so good to see you again." There's hardly a moment's pause before Dick hops up and takes the canvas grocery bags from him as he used to do when he lived at the Manor. The action pulls on Bruce's heartstrings with nostalgia and remembrance.

Alfred straightens and falls back on his impeccable manners to hide the emotion welling to the surface. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

"Curiosity."

"Ah, the photos in the paper." Alfred leads him past the sofa and into the kitchen. "I can assure you that things are quite different around here."

"He actually smiled a few times. Imagine that." Dick tosses Bruce a grin over his shoulder.

"I smile." Though there's a scowl on Bruce's face. He can feel it. He forces himself to lighten up but it falls flat. This is all so out of his realm of comfort.

"Why don't you stay for dinner?" Diana rises from the sofa, Bruce follows. "You could all catch up. Wouldn't that be nice, Bruce?"

Bruce jams both of his hands deep in the pockets of his trousers. "Sure. That sounds…Great."


	19. Chapter 19

After surprisingly civil dinner, Bruce and Dick move out to the balcony. The air is a bit chilly but the moon cast bright glow over the lake. Bruce has a scotch in hand and that does enough to keep him warm.

"So are we gonna talk about it?" Dick is the first to break the silence. He always was fidgety when it came to important discussions. For all of his youthful bravado, when it came down to the bottom line, he was still a boy who lost his parents way too young. They will always have that connection, that tragic link that bonds them.

"I'm glad you're doing well. Honestly." Bruce looks in him in eye to let him know he means what he's saying. "Bludhaven is a rough place. It needs someone like you."

"I hold my own."

"I know."

"Be careful, that sounds a little like pride." His smile falters because Bruce knows that's what he's always wanted. For him to be proud. Even now that Dick is nearing thirty, there's still that glimmer of the boy he raised that reflects back in his eyes.

"It is." Bruce tips the glass of scotch at him. "Don't forget who taught you everything you know."

"Every night I'm out there." The statement is full of veneration and gratitude, despite his quips and snarky remarks from before. They may have been irreparably angry with one another, but the sharp edges seem to have dulled enough to let the former respect show through.

"I never meant…" Bruce's voice catches on his words. "I'm sorry you felt like I was trying to…control you. That wasn't my intention. My greatest wish is for you to live a long, happy life." Bruce crosses his arms over his chest. "A father's job is to protect his children. I couldn't do that with Jason. I never want anything to happen to you."

"Wow. I never expected to hear that from you." He holds his hands up. "I'm not being sarcastic."

"It's the truth." He knows Dick isn't being a smartass or verbally sparring. Bruce was never forthcoming with his praise, and even shorter on compliments when he was younger. He was hard on Dick, and Jason. But what they did at such a young age, go out on the streets and fight crime, Bruce had to be tough to keep them safe. He'll never regret that.

"Thank you, that means a lot." Dick's eyes glimmer with moisture and he looks out over the lake. Bruce drops his gaze to his feet, emotion welling in his throat. The silence is welcome. He's truly missed him.

At length, Dick turns his head. "I didn't come here to cause problems between you and Diana."

"I know." Bruce lets out a rueful sigh. "If she's upset with me, it's entirely my fault."

Dick smiles. "What else is new?"

"True." He lifts his scotch from the railing and takes a sip.

"She loves you, I'm sure she'll get over it." Dick turns around and leans his elbows against the railing. "She's good for you, you know?"

Bruce huffs. "You're the fifty-third person who's told me that this week."

"Maybe you should get your head out of your ass and listen for once."

"I am listening. You think I don't know how special she is? How different I am when I'm around her? Because of her?" Bruce shakes his head and smiles. "She makes me a better person."

"She actually got us talking. That's saying something."

"Yeah, she's pretty amazing." Bruce scuffs the toe of his Feragamo shoe against the board in the deck. "I've missed you, Dick."

"I've missed you too, Bruce."

Bruce swallows thickly.

"So are we just gonna stand here and continue to have this awkward dad/son moment or are you going to hug me?"

"You're a shit." Bruce laughs and then cups his hand over the back of his son's head and pulls him in for a tight hug.

He finds Diana in the bedroom. She's already in bed, reading on her iPad. She's in a loose tank top and her hair is piled on top of her head so he knows there will be no sex tonight. Not that he's in the mood. It's been a trying day. He strips off his clothes, pulls on a pair of soft pants and lays down on the cool, smooth sheets. At least she's here and she's not yelling. He folds his hands behind his head and stares at the ceiling trying to think about how he's going to approach this conversation. It's a huge omission and she's well within her rights to never speak to him again.

She places her iPad on the nightstand and leans over to brush a lock of hair off his forehead. Her touch is gentle as she gazes into his eyes from above him.

"Dick get out okay?"

"Yeah."

"Did you end it well?"

"Yeah. I think so."

"That's good."

Bruce turns his head to look at her. "Before you say anything, I'm sorry. I should have told you about Dick. And Jason." A lump forms in his throat and he swallows hard. Her deep russet eyes hold his gaze steadily, tolerantly waiting. It's his last chance to come clean, so he does. "After Jason was killed, I didn't handle it well. I became incensed. I pushed everyone in my life away. We haven't spoken in over five years. I honestly didn't think…Actually I don't know what I thought. When I accused you of not being able to move on after a hundred years, I was being a hypocrite. I am the poster child for survivor's guilt."

She sighs in that supremely patient way that both unsettles him and comforts him as the same time. Her voice is soft, without any anger. Rather it's full of compassion and understanding. "I _think_ that you avoided telling me because it causes you pain and why would you share something so personal when we were concerned with fighting Steppenwolf." Her fingers trace over the large scar on his chest and shoulder as if she knew its relevance. "Then after, we were starting a relationship. It was happy and exciting, and it didn't seem appropriate to bring up how you had lost a son and estranged from another. By then, too much time had passed and how do you bring that up in conversation? Is that about right?"

"More or less."

She tips his face towards hers. "Bruce, if this is going to work, we need to be completely honest with each other, no matter how painful or difficult it is to talk about."

He takes her hand in his and kisses her knuckles. She's right. She's always right. He trusts her like no other. On the battlefield, with his heart, with his soul, with his very being.

Rolling to his side to face her, he takes a deep breath and tucks her hand close to his heart. "I adopted Dick after his parents were killed. I was young, too young to take on a thirteen-year-old kid. But having lost my parents, I knew what that was like." The words are like sandpaper in his throat but he continues. "One night, about a year in, he discovered my vigilante work. He had so many questions. I tried to keep him away, but I couldn't. He wanted to join me, to fight alongside me. I refused, but he pushed and pushed. So, I trained him. Hard. Damned if he didn't take to it like a natural."

He remembers the night he ran Dick through the Gauntlet. His ultimate test––evade Batman through the streets of Gotham until sunrise. He passed with flying colors. He graduated to become Robin. It was one of Bruce's proudest moments.

"Eventually, I allowed him out in the field with me and we fought some of the worst criminals in the history of Gotham. And just like any too-smart-for-his-own-good teenager, he grew cocky and started to venture out on his own. Take jobs that were dangerous and foolish. We argued over and over about it. He flunked out of college, wanted to start his own team and try to balance working with me. I was furious. So I fired him." Bruce shakes his head. "That was the first break. I alienated him. In retrospect, I was frustrated and hurt. And a complete asshole.

"Then Jason came along. And that caused more problems. Dick didn't want me to take him in. Jason was on the street alone. I couldn't leave him out there, so adopted him too. Eventually Dick grew to care about Jason, but there was always a distance and a tension that remained with me. I don't know if Dick was jealous, or protective…I don't know…I wasn't a good father to Jason either.

"He was different. Tougher. Angry and impulsive. He lacked discipline. He required a lot of training. But he went into it knowing the streets. In that way, he was easier and more difficult. Until…"

Bruce's throat clamps shut and he coughs. The flashes of memory come fast. How he got there too late, the blood, so much blood. The hideous laughter and the sing-songing dance of the Clown Queen. An explosion of fire. The searing pain on his shoulder where the burning support beam fell.

He rubs the heels of his palms over his eyes. White lights flash in the blackness.

The words tumble from his mouth then. He explains every last detail of how he almost murdered a deranged man in cold blood. The man who took the life of an innocent boy just to taunt him. How he savagely beat all of the Joker's teeth from his mouth before he was stopped by Jim Gordon. All of the rage. The despair. How it broke his soul. How he blamed himself. And as a consequence, how that rage stewed for nearly ten years and fueled his hatred for Clark. His growing fear because of the damage Superman's fight with Zod caused, the death of good people, his people, and the unpredictability of such a powerful being left unchecked.

Her hand, soft and loving, wipes his cheeks of tears he didn't know he shed. It's been an eternity since he cried. But he can't stop the flow now. There are tears in her eyes as well when her arms encircle him and pull him against her chest. Her hands cradle his head, as she holds him. Her heart beats steadily under his cheek, a secure rhythm grounding him to the life he's building now away from his dark and tragic past. Her scent envelopes him in its warmth. For the first time, it's a relief to relive the story. To get the words out. No fear of judgement.

Her fingers comb through his hair and over his back.

His eyelids are heavy with emotional exhaustion. He knows he'll have nightmares tonight. Because he worries about Dick, and Barbara, even though he knows he trained them well. But maybe, just maybe, sleeping in Diana's arms tonight will keep his demons at bay.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being here. For being who you are." He rolls back to his side and takes her hand in his. "For loving me."

She caresses his cheek and presses her forehead to his. "I knew there was a story, a reason. I've seen the costume and the vile writing on it. How you pay homage to it when no one is looking or when things are troubling you." She pulls back and looks in his eyes, the backs of her fingers trace the lines on his face. "And I knew in time, you would share that story with me." She kisses him softly. "Your heartbreak is my heartbreak now. Just as your joy is my joy. We will face whatever horrors are in this world, whatever bliss there is, together."

His kiss her hand and presses her palm against his heart. His love for this woman growing deeper than he ever thought possible. "Together."

She holds his gaze for a long moment until an impish smile spreads over her lips and Bruce pulls back, warily. "Now, what's this about 'thieving women'?"

He groans and rolls her flat on her back, positioning himself between her strong thighs. "That is a story for another day."

Her hands press against his forearms holding him away. "Do I have to worry about these women showing up on your doorstep?"

"Woman. And not likely." Her arched eyebrow makes him explain further. He sighs. "Haven't seen her in almost eight years. Last I heard she was in Prague. I thought I was in love, that I could save her. I asked her to marry me. And we were happy for a while." He says it like a laundry list of items in a debrief. There really is no need for explanation because that part of his life is long gone. "It didn't work because leopards don't change their spots."

"Her or you?"

He rolls his eyes. Always so astute. "Both. I will always fight on the side of justice, for what's right. She, on the other hand, has a very loose interpretation of what right is."

"I see."

He shifts his position to bring his hand to her cheek. "What I had with her can't hold a candle to the way I feel about you, Princess." He places a kiss on her lips. "You are so much more than I bargained for. And everything I didn't realize I needed."

Her smile is infectious and she cups his face between her hands. "All right, you are off the hook."

"Good."


End file.
